Uplift (American Horror AU 1)
by Jurana Keri
Summary: Britta's gift was feared back in Sweden; now, having become the newest member of Elsa's troupe of curiosities, Jupiter is in awe of her rare gifts that sets her apart from the rest. However, she hides more behind a beautiful face than just extraordinary talents—will she find the courage to find trust in her new surroundings? (Written AU; Freak Show) (NOTE: Contains mature content!)
1. Chapter 1

It was a crisp day in Stockholm, Sweden, and Elsa had been growing more tired by the day in search of a new, fresh face to be an act in her freak show. She had been to five other major European capitals, including London, Paris, Madrid, Berlin, and Rome with no success in finding a new member. She had been in more hospitals, asylums and prisons than one could count on one hand so she could do what she was best at—deceiving the staff into thinking she was their lawful guardian and even bringing money to bail them out. She slept through her entire first day in Stockholm, her fatigue getting the best of her before the next day being spent going to a nearby psychiatric hospital that was called Konradsberg.

Upon entering discreetly as to not attract the attention of doctors and nurses, she snuck into a closet and put on a nurse's outfit and fixed her hair, taking a blank clipboard and pen before opening the door to leave the closet and go down the hall. She walked past three doctors, all speaking Swedish, and looked downward as she walked down the hall, and up a flight of stairs to see nurses walking around and tending to patients with congenital defects in wheelchairs and slurred speech; one of these patients was much like Pepper, the playful microcephalic woman who was in her freak show. There was a small shutter that slid to the side on each door, and Elsa took the liberty of sliding them open to peek inside to see who were in the rooms. Schizophrenics made up a large part of the hospital's patients, but on this floor alone, there were many aside from those sent there by their families to live and be treated for things they couldn't help and were born with.

Elsa's feet were tired and her knees were feeling heavy—still, she pressed on. On the second floor was full of the more delusional of Konradsberg's patients, and Elsa's curiosity led her to each door, opening the shutters to get a good look at the patients in them. One was a young man jumping around his room and on his plain, metal-frame bed who was heavily convinced that he could fly. Another was a young woman who lay in her bed with her arms crossed over her chest as though she were dead in a coffin, lifelessly without motion. The next door, like many of the ones she had already passed, had a file attached to a small holder bolted into the wall. Without hesitation, she carefully took the yellowish folder out and opened it, not understanding a single stitch of the meticulous Swedish typed on the front document. However, she took words from her native German and compared them to what had been written under what looked to be a list of disorders associated with the patient inside. She read each one, carefully spotting similarities between the languages.

_Vanföreställningar schizofreni_.

"Schizophrenia," Elsa concluded in German.

She looked again to see the word "_självmords_" typed beneath it. Elsa couldn't think of a German equivalent, so she looked to the next word.

_Melankoli_— "depression," muttered the German woman.

Elsa opened the shutter slowly and peered into what looked like a young woman sitting on a stool by a plain bed that resembled the other beds in the hospital rooms she had seen through the shutters. It had a metal frame with vertical bars on the headboard and footboard with a plain white sheet and pillow. The appearance of the young woman seemed to illuminate and brighten her stark white, plain surroundings from her long golden blonde hair fastened in a braid, her fair skin like peaches and cream, and her lithe, willowy figure looked so frail and beautifully dainty. Elsa opened the shutter and saw an easel—the patient was sketching in pencil, but she looked closely and saw she wasn't using her arms, let alone her hands, at all—it was as though the pencil was writing by itself, and as Elsa noticed the girl's intense concentration on the object sketching for her, she turned the knob slowly and opened it ajar. The young woman was still levitating the pencil to sketch on the easel's large pad of paper what looked like a large barn house with a silo, freshly plowed, fertile fields, and a windmill. Elsa stepped into the room and closed the door—the sound of her high heels and the closing door startled the young woman, causing her to turn frantically and stare at Elsa fearfully.

"Ah!" the young woman shrieked.

"I will not hurt you, _mein leibling_," Elsa insisted, patting the edge of the plain hospital bed to get the young woman to sit. She quietly observed the German with a curly, strawberry-blonde coif taking out what looked like a pack of cigarettes, opening it and taking one out before lighting it and taking a slow drag.

"Hm, would you like one, _leibchen_?" Elsa offered—there was no answer, which so found strange. Perhaps she did not know a word of English? Or maybe she was just shy? Either way, she continued. "It's fine. It's Lucky Strike. It's good for you." She extended the open pack to the golden-haired young woman, whose peridot green eyes looked at her with hesitation, her light-colored brows furrowed inward against Elsa's further encouragement.

"Here, go ahead. Take one."

The young woman gingerly reached out and pulled out a thin cigarette from Elsa's carton, seeing the hazel-eyed woman smile in a sly, calculative manner until the young woman took it, put it between her lips, and seemed to concentrate on the ignitable end. Elsa's smile faded to pure amazement as she noticed the tip of the cigarette glow a bright red by itself; without the assistance a lighter would otherwise provide. She noticed the lovely young psychiatric patient take a nervous initial drag of the small white paper tube filled with filtered tobacco. Knowing that it possibly was triggered by the same mental mechanism as her making a pencil sketch on its own, Elsa smiled gently and dismissed it.

"What a pretty girl you are," she complimented, looking at her divine, gem-like green eyes. The freckles on the bridge of her nose made her appear more youthful, and her face looked somewhat gaunt but in a lovely heart-shape. Her mouth had not moved; _she probably doesn't understand me_, she thought.

"You are still so young and full of life, uh…" Elsa looked down at the file folder she had taken from the holder outside and into the room with her, reading the name on the tab, "_Britta_?"

The patient quietly nodded, keeping her pink lips zipped tight as Elsa continued; "Britta Nordlund. That is your name? Hm?"

No answer, but Elsa still continued to talk and smoke her cigarette at the same pace as the patient revealed to be Britta. The young woman had adjusted a strand of golden hair so it stayed behind her ear.

"Britta," she began again, "you should not be surrounded by these…_diseased_ individuals who secretly want to kill each other. Life is to be lived."

When the patient didn't seem fazed at all by what Elsa was telling her, obviously due to the language barrier, the German woman seemed to pull out something from behind her; as if by magic or as though she had hidden it beneath her nurse's disguise. Britta's eyes widened at it to see that it was a magazine bearing the graceful, glamorous image of famed actress Greta Garbo on the front. From the star's permed light brown locks to her overdone makeup, from her overly-arched, extremely thin eyebrows and her ethereal, far-away gaze, it made Britta smile slowly to reveal perfect white teeth behind her light, naturally pink lips.

"There's a little bit of Greta in you," Elsa explained, pulling the magazine away just as the patient was putting out her hands to reach for it. "Your bright eyes…your fair complexion…your _power_?" The urgency of her tone make Britta jerk up to erect her back and stare at her defensively. Elsa just continued and chuckled proudly; "_Ja_, they called _her_ the 'Divine Garbo'. Her talents and beauty made her divine, and they _still_ do. _You_ are divine by your powers. I saw what you were doing with the pencil, _liebchen_."

I saw what you were doing with the pencil, _liebling_."

The young girl had a worried, distressed look on her face as she struggled for a deep breath, dragging on her cigarette as she looked at the easel holding up her detailed drawing at an angle. Elsa glanced over at the large sketch and smiled, looking at Britta's nervous countenance as she continued to speak English to her.

"You weren't using your hands. I have never seen such extreme talent in all my life."

Britta just stared at her, biting her lower lip as though she were on the verge of crying. She felt ashamed, and Elsa could tell. "There is no need to be ashamed, _liebling_. You were born special. You are special," she told her in a whisper. "I know many special people, but you are at the top of the list."

The lovely, young blonde patient took a labored sigh and took the cigarette from her lips, looking at Elsa's hazel gaze and watching her neutral lips move to say her next words in the form of a question.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

Her eyes widened with confusion—_I don't understand a word she's saying_, Britta thought, taking another drag of her half-a-cigarette as she watched Elsa, in her nurse disguise, walk over to the easel and put out her cigarette on the small space unoccupied by the pad of paper. Britta gasped slightly, trying so hard to pick up on verbal and non-verbal cues from her tone and body language to understand what she meant.

"I must admit," Elsa said as she put out her cigarette butt, "any man would be _foolish_ to pass you up." She then took a gander at Britta's thin, willowy body of unrealistic proportions and shook her head slightly. "Then again, a man wants curves, _not_ a stick." Then Elsa's voice became a creepy, droning whisper that sent chills down Britta's spine; "I bet no one has ever tasted your cherry pie."

Britta's green orbs widened, intuitively knowing from her sly, seductive tone that she is implying sex. She kept silent, shocked by what she was conveying as she took a drag so hard that she nearly started to choke from the sting of nicotine in her lungs.

"Hopefully, we can do something about that," Elsa continued.

But that was all she was allowed to say—Britta spoke up, crushed the cigarette she was given between two fingers, and pointed toward the entrance of her cell-like room with her free hand.

"_Gå ut härifrån_!" the young woman screeched in Swedish, gritting her teeth wildly as her eyes remained wide open and directed at Elsa. "_Lämna det här rummet! Syndare!_"

Elsa backed away, trying to not be afraid of the sudden burst of anger coming from the patient. She looked down and shook her head before leaning toward her again and whispering gently.

"I will return, _leibchen_," Elsa seethed gently. "That is a promise."

Late that night, Elsa managed to sneak back into the hallowed halls of Konradsberg. She had be wary of security guards blocking the entrance, so she snuck out the back and wore her quietest pair of shoes as she ventured up to Britta's cell on the second floor of the institution. In her freaky, embroidered bag were some provisions obtained especially for Britta and her release.

Meanwhile, while in her room, the golden-haired beauty heard her shutter opening and closing before hearing a key unlock her cell-like room. She had been sitting on her bed, having jumped to see Elsa standing in the doorway with nothing but moonlight to illuminate her mature, nearly wrinkled face and her penetrating gaze.

"_Liebchen_," whispered the German as she lightly closed the door behind her.

"_Nei_," the patient breathed roughly, maintaining speech in her native tongue. "Get out. Now! I told you to leave!"

"Keep your voice down. Remember to whom you are speaking, _liebchen_," Elsa warned, looking down at Britta intimidatingly as she sat on the plain bed by her lonesome. "Here, I went out to town and got this _just_ for you."

Out of her freaky, embroidered bag she pulled out two articles of clothing. Britta gasped, reaching to feel the fabric of a plain, white blouse with long sleeves as well as a red and blue pinstripe overdress that went to the knees and a matching button-up, sleeveless vest. Britta also saw Elsa pull out a large handkerchief with Scandinavian designs embroidered into the fabric intricately to create a beautiful, traditional design that evoked memories from her early childhood. Her countenance seemed to calm down, as did her temperament, looking at Elsa and making a noiseless sound.

"Eh?"

"I want to save you, _liebchen_," the German said, moving closer to the young woman and moving a wayward golden strand away from her face. "You are coming with me."

"Eh?"

"Ja," Elsa said, putting her hands on Britta's shoulders. "To America."

"_Amerika_?" the young Swede asked with confusion, her eyes staring at Elsa with wonder as her lips parted.

"_Ja_, _meine liebchen_," the older woman said. "You will bring…_great_ fortune and _fame_ to my…cabinet of curiosities."

After accomplishing her ultimate goal, Elsa was so happy that she was smiling on her way to sneak into the center office and snatch discharge forms to get Britta out of the psychiatric hospital. She let the patient sign first before Elsa created a false name with which to sign. She made up a name, looking at one of the badges a nurse had left behind in the office, taking the name "Magdalene Oxstierna", signing in perfect penmanship before they snuck their way past security guards and into the chilly October night.

From there, they began their long journey back to Jupiter, Florida—it began with a liner from Stockholm to London, and from there, another liner was to take them across the Atlantic and to their destination. Britta, though grateful to be taken out of three years confined to the psychiatric hospital, was nervous and scared; she kept quiet for practically the entire trip and read the magazine Elsa had given her as a token of their new business relationship—she had plans to have Britta exhibit her telekinetic abilities in her sideshow. With every word in English Elsa said, the harder she tried to figure out what she meant by non-verbal cues. Little did she know that what she was in for was nothing she would have ever expected, even if it was performing for a sideshow. Ironically, she did not understand English to know this was the reason she was being brought to America.

**A/N:**

**I decided that this story needs a revamp for a couple of chapters, so in case you are wondering why, it is because I felt the first fourteen chapters were unrealistic and **_**NEEDED**_** to be changed. However, these are relatively minor and do not affect the plot for the rest of the series.**

TRANSLATION: "_Gå ut härifrån! Lämna det här rummet, du syndare!_" – "Get out of here! Leave this room, you sinner!"

**I hope you like (and notice) the new improvements I've made!**

**I appreciate Reviews, Favorites and Follows!**

**Thank you! **


	2. Chapter 2

_One week later…_

"Dinner!" Dell exclaimed, calling all of the carnies to the large tent for their nightly meal.

First came the smaller ones—dwarves, microcephalics, and the woman born without legs. Next came Amazon Eve and her stupendous, intimidating height and presence, Paul with his short, t-rex-like arms, and Jimmy, whose fingers were fused together, sat at the other end of the table opposite Dell. The young man looked around at the entire troupe, who congregated at their usual dinner seats. Dot and Bette each fed themselves with the hands on their respective sides, holding their spoons as if they were two separate people. He got a glance of Salty and Pepper unfolding their cloth napkins—Salty placed his in the collar of his shirt, while Pepper placed hers flat on the skirt of her canary yellow dress. He watched Paul as he flipped off his raven black fedora and placed it on the table next to his utensils. Ma Petit, the world's smallest woman, sat on the lap of Eve, holding a small bowl of potato and onion soup in her hands. Ethel sat at the first seat diagonal from her son, and ate carefully so that her full, auburn beard would not be soiled by crumbs, broth, or other scraps.

"Potato and onion soup…again," Jimmy muttered distastefully, taking a small spoonful and taking it to his mouth. Ethel looked at him and shook her head.

"Be thankful for what you got. Could be shit yer eatin'," she told him, taking a bite of her food. "Once Elsa gets back, things'll be better. It's been a hard two months without 'er here."

"Ugh, I'm getting sick of having to stand Dell," Jimmy said quietly among the chatter of the carnies. Ethel rolled her eyes and drank some wine from her glass.

"Just bite yer tongue, ok?" she groaned, having been annoyed by their constant bickering since Elsa left for Europe.

"I'll do that if _he_ does," Jimmy said, cocking an eyebrow up.

"Elsa'll be back in time for the show this Saturday," Paul said, looking down the table at Jimmy, breaking his bread with his short, heavily tattooed arms. "Hope she was successful in findin' a new act."

About ten minutes later, there was the sound of a car driving into the site of the freak show's tents and caravans. Pepper and Salty turned their conical heads backward and their jaws dropped in curiosity. Amazon Eve set Ma Petit on the ground, allowing her to run toward the entrance of the large tent they were having dinner in. The woman without legs crawled and followed everyone who went out to see who it was—it was a very luxurious vehicle with a black, shiny coat that appeared as though it were painted on. The windows were somewhat large and had small curtains on the inside, reminiscent of a funeral hearse. Ethel and Jimmy were the last people to join the others near the entrance. Dell opened the curtain a peak and saw that the person coming out of the car was Elsa with the help of a chauffeur.

"It's her, guys!" Dell declared authoritatively. "Get away from the entrance."

"Why?" Bette asked, her usual tone sweet as a dove in flight.

"Who knows what she brought back with her?" he answered with a cynical look on his face. "Just get away from the entrance. C'mon. Let's go!"

The carnies did as told, but Jimmy stayed put—he was close to the entrance but not right smack in front of the door. He moved back and away few steps, his arms crossed over his slender, muscular chest as he waited patiently for Elsa's return with the new act she had been looking for. Meanwhile, the chauffeur extended his hand to Britta, weary from the trip, and she took it as she stepped out of the car and looked at the piece of land that included the caravan residences of the carnies and the big top tent, where the shows all took place. Her eyes wandered, the sunset being her only light in seeing the bland, grassy ground covered in shades of sage green and light beige. Sweden was either lush with vegetation or rocky and cold tundra—having been to many parts of her homeland during her lifetime, she knew that America was somewhat more exciting. Each of the caravans and smaller tents were situated behind the great tent, a structure of red and white stripes with the main entrance resembling the opening of a monster's ferocious jowls. She gasped, and Elsa looked back at her, extending her hand.

"Come," she said. Britta's beautiful green eyes were full of curiosity, and as silent as she remained, the German continued by introducing her new home to her, waving out her hand forward toward the entrance of the big top.

"Welcome to my freak show," Elsa said, leading the young woman down the trail toward the open jowls of the monster that made up the entrance. Britta's eyes widened, her knees felt weak and her heart rate increased intensely. She adjusted the embroidered kerchief Elsa had placed on her head, tightening the tie as she was led into the gruesome entrance. _What is this place_, she thought in her mind.

On the other side of the inner black curtain, Pepper and Salty opened them, and everyone chattered as Elsa entered the great tent—a few people, the microcephalics included, clapped uncontrollably. However, Britta stayed behind the curtain—she was beyond nervous and even scared to an extent.

"Yes, I have returned," Elsa said. She looked at Dell and smiled slightly; "Thank you for being in charge while I was gone." She moved closer to him and whispered; "you're getting a little raise." Jimmy, who stood away from the entrance, rolled his eyes and pursed his lips slightly—he felt a fire burning within, a fire of anger and resentment.

"What about the newest addition to our show?" Dell asked.

"_Ja_, I have found one," Elsa said. Everyone smiled and cheered, but Jimmy kept a neutral expression on his face, his hard brown eyes on Dell and Elsa. The woman looked back, and noticed that Britta was not still behind her. She walked back toward the entrance and saw the young blonde standing in the shadow of the fading sunset.

"_Leibchen_, you can come in. There is no need to be afraid," she told her, opening the curtain to allow the petite young woman to step forward.

As Britta lifted her head, everyone gasped at her extraordinarily peaceful presence. Her distinctive Nordic features, from her intense green eyes, her fair, freckled skin, and what could be seen of her braided honey blonde hair captivated them all. Her face was gentle, hints of her high cheekbones showing as she analyzed the crowd of carnies and their unique deformities and mutations. Jimmy was also enchanted by her, but still, he looked at her strangely—_she seems rather normal_, he thought, _there is nothing wrong with her_.

"Everyone, meet Britta Nordlund," Elsa said, wrapping her arm around the young woman, whose face was streaked with red; she was embarrassed, scared, and nerve-wracked; above all, she was extremely uncomfortable being around people with so many abnormalities she had never seen before.

"Where did you find her?" Bette asked, smiling at the girl. "She's lovely."

"She's normal," Dot snided coldly, "just like the rest of them. She don't belong here."

"Stockholm, Sweden," Elsa answered to Bette before turning her eyes to her cynical, conjoined twin sister, "and _no_, Dot. Looks can be _very_ deceiving. She possesses a rare ability, none the world has ever seen. I am sure you will all make her feel welcome here and make her a part of our family."

Upon hearing she had abilities, Jimmy's face brightened up slightly, smirking at the girl with disbelief—_what the hell does she mean by that_, he thought as he focused on the intricate embroidery of Britta's headscarf. The young Swedish woman looked around at the carnies; Salty and Pepper with their microcephaly, the woman born without legs, Desiree with her three breasts poking out in the form of cleavages, Eve with her intimidating height, Ma Petit with her delicate stature being held in her arms, Paul with his frighteningly short arms, Bette and Dot's conjoined, shared body, Dell's bulkiness, Ethel's full beard, and the few midgets and dwarfs who were no taller than four feet. Glancing over at Jimmy, whose face looked calm, she had seen no deformity on him from a distance. She sighed with relief, thinking he looked just like her—normal.

"There is no caravan for you just yet, _leibchen_," Elsa told Britta, placing her hands on the sides of her upper arms. She raised her voice a little so that everyone could hear her. "I hope someone will allow you to stay in theirs until further notice."

"I have some room in mine," Ethel said, raising her hand slightly. Britta looked at her—as much as she felt nervous and frightened by these freaks of nature, she smiled slightly out of charity.

"She can stay with Ma Petit and me," Eve declared.

"Either will do, ladies," Elsa said. "For now, Britta and I haven't eaten since we left the liner from London."

Pepper and a dwarf man nodded and grabbed empty, clean wooden bowls for the two as they sat at the table, serving them bread and the same bland, tasteless potato and onion soup everyone else had been eating. Once the meal was put out in front of her, Britta sighed and sat up straight, taking her spoon and scooping some broth, a diced potato piece and a shiny onion skin into her spoon. Feeling the pangs of hunger in her stomach, she took her first bite. Elsa, noticing the young woman's apprehensive behavior and facial expression, she sighed and took a bite of her own food, swallowing before speaking.

"Britta," she said.

The girl's green eyes looked at the German attentively, taking her beverage to her lips and taking a sip while Elsa leaned in to whisper.

"They are human, just like you and I," she said. "Everyone here is different in their own way. People don't come to see these freaks in the heat of day. They come in the evening, when the darkness moves in and speaks of mystery and the unknown. That is also when logic loosens its vice grip and the imagination comes out to play. The night allows the stars to shine and we come alive. _We _are the stars Britta." She sighed, and Britta kept listening diligently. "Your first show will be this Saturday. You are the new headlining act. Seeing you perform will be like seeing God on his own stage."

Britta just looked long and hard at Elsa, intuitively knowing that she sounded fiercely proud and determined. _What does she mean_, she thought to herself, _if only I knew English_.

"You are a star. You are special. Embrace it."

Later that night, Britta had bathed and was given a plain white nightgown by Ethel, who agreed to share her caravan with her. In comparison to the others, who had tents and small trailers, Ethel's caravan was quite lovely and sturdy—there was a violet tone to the walls inside, a small kitchenette, a large mirror on top of a short armoire, a bed, and a lounge sofa for Britta to sleep on. Ethel was standing by the mirror, trimming and grooming her beard meticulously while Britta brushed her long, honey blonde hair gently with a boar-bristled brush. As her brush made strokes down each strand, she thought about what Elsa had told her. She had only understood half of what she was saying, and she, for one, never performed for anyone before; it simply was not in her nature. Her dark past would have prevented her from doing such a thing anyhow, but her mystery would be a spectacle all in itself.

Ethel finished trimming her beard and put away the scissors and comb in the nearby aluminum can where she kept all of her grooming tools. She looked back at Britta and watched as she quietly brushed her hair, getting every tangle out of her textured strands.

"You done yet?" Ethel asked. Britta brushed one more stroke before putting the brush on her lap.

"Huh?"

"Done?" Ethel repeated, holding out her hand to collect the brush Britta was using. The young woman placed it in her palm so she could put it away. Then, the bearded lady sat on the seat across from the lounge sofa, looking at how Britta's lithe, willowy, petite frame swam in the large nightgown she was given to wear. Her gentle, small hands rested on her lap, and her dainty feet were crossed at the ankles underneath the swarm of white cotton fabric.

"You could be the World's Thinnest Girl," Ethel joked, laughing. Britta smiled a little bit to go along with whatever she had said (at least in her mind). "Do you speak?"

"Huh?" Ethel made a gesture pointing to her mouth and extending her fingers outward as if she were speaking.

"Do you speak English, girl?"

"_Engelska_?" Britta questioned before finally knowing what she was asking—she shook her head. "_N-Nei_."

"Hope Elsa can hire you a tutor or somethin'," Ethel replied with frustration, opening her legs in her seat slightly so she could lean forward and rest her sizeable elbows on her lap. "You can't go 'round speakin' nonsense or keepin' silent all the damn time."

Knowing that the bearded woman was not happy with the language barrier, Britta looked down at her long, golden strands and running her thin, frail fingers through them.

"You look real young, uh…_Britta_? That yer name, darlin'?" the bearded lady asked, somewhat cynical in her tone.

"I know you can't understand me, but I wanna tell ya right now. Elsa's given a home to all of us. We oughta be thankful to 'er," the bearded lady said. She gave the girl another long look again. "What makes_ you_ special?"

Britta was silent, just staring at her with wonderful green eyes and seeing her beard fold slightly as she dipped her gaze downward at her plain frock.

"Elsa had to have brought ya here for a reason. There's gotta be somethin'."

Britta, noticing the frustrated curiosity in Ethel's voice, sighed and closed her eyes, getting her focus as she saw the brush up on the armoire, not in the aluminum can with the other grooming tools. Within a minute, it lifted from the surface of the armoire and began to float in midair by her will. Ethel got up and walked slowly over toward the sight, absorbing the image in her mind as her jaw dropped slightly. Britta lifted her hand softly and swiftly pointed her finger to herself, setting the floating brush on a course toward her.

"Oh!" Ethel gasped in shock. Once it was close enough, Britta closed her hands around the brush—it stopped floating. It was the most incredible thing Ethel had seen in her entire life.

"Wow," she whispered, going toward Britta and holding her palm out to retrieve the brush. The Swede looked up at the bearded woman, giving her brush back.

"We ain't gonna let this thing of yer's be no game. Time to sleep now," the bearded lady said, walking down the steps of her caravan to her bed. She took off her slippers and laid back on her bed, pulling the blanket over her. "Goodnight, Britta."  
"_God natt_," the girl replied, making Ethel glance with a smirk before closing her eyes for rest. The Swede turned on her side to look out the window, the full moon high in the sky being bright enough to tire her eyes enough to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_The sensation of two, perhaps three, strong men gripping her wrists and ankles was almost enough to snap her out of her slumber, but she was unable to move. She thrashed about, her golden blonde hair becoming a matted mess over her face as the weight of her light body dragged across the unseen terrain below the back of her body. Her white nightgown had become soiled with dirt and other sediments, but the voices around her screamed unflattering names._

"_Witch!"_

"_In Jesus name, I cast you into darkness!"_

_Then came the sensation of stones pelting toward her body as she was lifted up and placed back down again. Screaming helplessly, the woman with golden hair wept for mercy._

"_HELP! Let go of me! Let go of me!"_

_Then she felt her wrists being separated and tied to what felt like wooden posts. _

_As she felt herself being raised at an angle, she looked to her right and left to see that her wrists were tied tightly to the arms of a wooden cross. Looking out before her, she could see an entire town and their scornful faces—men, women and children all calling out horrible names and chucking stones of various sizes at her as she hung from the cross she was tied tighter to around the torso and legs. She continued to scream, calling out for mercy as she felt the heat begin to rise in her immediate environment._

"_AH!" she screamed. "HELP! HELP!"_

_A lick of flame began to catch onto the bottom of her nightgown, causing her to scream out in pain as she felt her bare feet being consumed by the ferocious flames. At that moment, she knew her last words were in favor._

"_If I burn," she declared ferociously, "you _ALL _will burn with me!"_

BOOM!

_The townspeople responsible for burning her on a wooden cross turned around at the sudden roar of fire that began to consume the town starting at the church, which exploded with large splinters flying in the air. The mysterious fire began to gradually travel from house to house, and even got on people. It spread, as though it were wildly confined in a forest, or as though it were a disease ravaging a small town population. Her peridot eyes began to grow heavy, watching as the fire spread indiscriminately among men, women and children, but amidst the chaos, her eyes widened to a strange sight. It was of a large-bodies clown with a dirtied white costume, large yellow and red pompoms on the front, horn-like points on the top of his head, and, even scarier, an eternally-smiling mouthpiece that gave a sense of danger and malice. It went horribly with his dark, deep gaze, so the primary victim of the burning found herself screaming._

"_AHHHH…_

AHH!"

Britta jumped up from her horrid dream and unpleasant sleep, roughly plopping her palm on her sweaty forehead and whimpering slightly. She glanced out the window and saw that morning had come. A rooster's shrill calling sounded nature's alarm for people to wake up.

"_Åh nej, inte igen_," she whimpered under her breath. _Not again._

She looked over and saw that Ethel was still asleep, so she got up and put on her tight, leather oxford shoes, looking out toward the sunny window. She didn't bother to brush or braid her hair as she quietly snuck out of Ethel's caravan, closing the door and walking down the steps and the path it led to. All the caravans, tents, and trailers were set along a dirt road, much like a small town; a small town of freaks, carnies, the rejected. She walked slowly down the path toward the large tent, where the show took place, as the breeze below her hair back off her face.

Meanwhile, the rooster had woken up Jimmy, who got up and wiped his eyes of any sleep. He freshened up by washing his face and putting on a fresh set of clothing, eager for breakfast to be served. He glanced outside his trailer, which had a see-through door with a netted mesh to keep insects out, and saw Britta walking down the path at her slow, even pace. He walked out of his door and looked at her, waving his deformed hand to get her attention as he whistled.

"Hey!" he called out. Britta stopped and gasped, looking around until she saw Jimmy standing there wearing plain blue jeans, a white wifebeater tank top, black leather biker boots, and his auburn-brown hair slicked back with the normal curl in the front of his head.

"_Hej_," Britta said softly, understanding the English word as the wind carrying her voice like a delightful song. Jimmy smirked and walked closer, seeing her thin frame swimming in the windblown nightgown his mother had given her.

"Ah, you talk," he said with a chuckle. "How did you sleep?" Recalling her nightmare, she looked down and tried to think of what he was telling her. Keeping silent, her facial expression said it all—Jimmy knew she sounded pained and anguished, looking at her with concern.

"Hm, doesn't look like you slept well," he said, shrugging slightly. "You have to get used to being here. This is all new to you. When I first saw you last night, I thought you wouldn't last a single day here."

"Huh?" Britta sounded with wonder, still wondering what he was saying.

"Well, we are all different here. We're still people, though," Jimmy said, his handsome face smiling at her charmingly. "I just wish we could all be treated the same as others, you know?"

Judging by his tone, Britta bit her lower lip nervously and blinked a few times, her eyes sparkling up into his deep, dark brown ones.

Jimmy stared into her sunlit green eyes with his dark brown ones—she was beautiful, for sure. He had seen many pretty faces in his short lifetime at that point; he had made extra money on the side providing unique sexual services to local women with his abnormally large hands with merged fingers. He definitely was no stranger to a beautiful woman. However, something about Britta made him curious to delve deeper into her mysteries—her eyes held many secrets and many years of sorrow. Her golden, waist-long blonde hair blew back, some getting in her face as she looked down at the ground and the large mass of white fabric swimming around her lithe figure. He was unaware that she was silent because she could not speak a word of English, yet when she greeted him, it confused him to think about it. Jimmy tried to make eye contact again, and he chuckled.

"I'm hungry," he laughed, patting his abdomen to make her understand what he meant. "What about you? You want something to eat?"

Britta looked at him silently, but noticed him furrow his eyebrows inward as if to find the answer to one of his questions.

"Do you speak any English at all?" he asked. "You just said 'hey' to me when I said it to you. Why are you so quiet?"

She blinked silently, her green eyes shining at him guiltily as Jimmy looked down at his watch—it was 7:35. "I ain't gonna wait 'til nine to eat breakfast. There's a diner here in town. Want to get dressed and come with me?"

Britta nodded, knowing he had good intention, and was followed by Jimmy to Ethel's caravan; upon entering, she was very careful not to make any noise as she retrieved the clothing she had worn during the whole journey from Europe to Jupiter, Florida. It was the same a plain, white blouse with long sleeves as well as a red and blue pinstripe overdress that went to the knees; not even bothering to put on the vest, she took some of the perfume from Ethel's bottle, spraying a little bit on the underarms and waist of the dress when she put it on. As she quietly braided her hair, she rushed so that she could walk out as quickly as possible without being noticed. She closed the door silently and walked down the steps.

Jimmy then led Britta to his motorcycle, putting on his leather jacket and matching cap. His gloves covered his fused fingers, and as he started the motor, the girl went behind him, and he looked back.

"Hold on," he told her.

She did so. She shut her eyes as the motorcycle began to move at a rapid pace out of the grounds of the freak show and the living oddities. The road seemed long and very woodsy, a marsh being nearby with lily pads and water polluted with algae. Once they reached the heart of Jupiter, Jimmy steered the bike toward the diner, where he frequented. He parked it, and Britta got off the bike as Jimmy put the kickstand down. Upon entering the diner, the waitresses, two chefs, and the customers sitting at both the tables and the counter looked at Jimmy in fear. One of the chefs, the owner of the diner, noticed Britta, the striking Swede, with him and rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Lobster Boy?" he asked rudely. An entire family left the restaurant, leaving a tip and an insufficient amount of money to pay for the meal they didn't finish. Britta looked and watched them as they left—a young child was with them, who started to cry out of fear.

"Well, this is a diner, ain't it?" the handsome young man with deformed hands asked cynically. "We came to be served."

The owner looked at Britta and smiled; she looked back at him, but the owner grimaced at her slovenly look—her dress and hairstyle was more than unfashionable for an adult woman. The pinstripes seemed to look worn and somewhat dirtied, but that didn't stop the waitresses from keeping their attention on Britta, admiring her long braid hanging down the front of her shoulder.

"Have a seat, then," the owner said. Jimmy directed them to a table, not the counter—he didn't want to embarrass Britta even further if he did. She sat down and smoothed out her skirt, sitting with her back erect and elbows off the table; in contrast, Jimmy sat very casually and informally. He put his leather jacket on the back of his chair and his cap with it, looking at Britta with a kind of curiosity that one would deem as being nosy. She stared back, but then looked at the table.

Menus were brought to them soon after; Jimmy stuck with his usual steak and eggs sunny-side up and took it upon himself to order pancakes with dollops of butter and syrup on each with a side of sausage links for Britta. When they got their food, Britta was rather quiet and ate slowly, as though she were a rabbit feasting on cilantro or carrots. Having an American breakfast was much different than having a Swedish one. Recalling her bland morning meals in the psychiatric hospital that consisted of scones, apple juice, and a piece of in-season fruit, she favored this even more.

"You're pretty shy, aren't you?" Jimmy asked when he was halfway done with his steak and eggs. Britta didn't know what to say, so she sipped her orange juice.

"Britta?"

"Oh,_ ja_?" She puts her glass down and took a bite of her food.

"Have you ever learned any English at all?" Jimmy asked.

"_Engelska_?" she asked softly, still speaking in her native tongue. "_Nei_, I never learned any English."

The two continued to eat, but Jimmy found himself frustrated with the extremely simplistic medium of communication. _How could Elsa have brought her here_, he asked himself, _she's normal and she doesn't speak any English at all_.

When the two decided they were full after an awkward remainder of time of silent eating, Jimmy took out his wallet and pulled a $20 bill out of it. The meal was actually $11, but he was feeling rather generous and gave the extra $9 as a tip to the waitress who came by to pick it up. They got up and left the diner—Britta, as she followed Jimmy back to the motorcycle, smiled slightly. For once, someone had actually treated her well enough for her to smile about it. He started the motor and steered back to the grounds of the freak show, zooming away.

Upon arrival, he saw Elsa outside hanging laundry on the lines with Pepper, Dot and Bette, and little Jyoti. Once he pulled in, Elsa stared at him long and hard, focusing on him more than she did Britta.


	4. Chapter 4

Elsa crossed her arms slowly over her chest as Pepper and Dot and Bette continued to hang the wet clothes up on the lines. Jimmy stopped his motorbike near the entrance of the great tent, and Elsa approached him as they got off.

"Where were you at breakfast? It's going on 10:00," she asked.

"Just grabbed some grub," he replied casually, kicking down the kickstand. As Britta stood put with her hands clasped in front, Elsa approached her and looked as she wore the same clothing as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.

"_Mein leibchen_," she said emphatically, placing her hands on the girl's delicate face. "You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday." Britta stayed silent as the woman sighed, shaking her head. "You need new clothes. You cannot go on stage tomorrow night dressed like that. It isn't…professional."

The girl responded to her tone by cocking her eyebrows upward, keeping her lips from moving as she listened to Elsa.

"Today, that will change. You are coming with me to get you some," she whispered. "First, let us do chores, _ja_?"

"Elsa, she can't understand you," Jimmy said wearily. "She can't speak _English_."

"All the better then," the German responded with a smile. "She will learn soon enough."

Jimmy watched as Elsa placed her arm around Britta's shoulder; it was at though she was the mother the girl had lost so long ago. He watched a little bit more as Elsa turned Britta to face her, placing her hands on her delicate shoulders and speaking to her with a smile on her face. She directed the girl to pick up some clothing from the basket, and she did so, hanging every shirt, pair of pants, and sock to precision on the line. Within the next hour, the laundry had been all hung up to dry, and Elsa called her chauffeur to pick up not only she and Britta, but Dot and Bette, Eve, and Ethel—they were off to town for a day of shopping.

There was a small shopping district in Jupiter composed of five different stores, three of them being more high-end. Dotte and Bette, Eve, and Ethel had all brought some of their own money with them, but Elsa was kind enough to pay for Britta's selections and her own choices for the girl. Their first stop was a boutique called Le Fleur, and inside was a wall displaying an array of fancy, brand new shoes in their boxes, racks of clothing in the main part of the store, and accessories on the wall across from the shoes. Purses, jewelry sets with earrings and necklaces, scarves, hats, and other items were included and set on display in a meticulous fashion.

"Oh, great," Ethel said sarcastically. "There's probably nothin' that fits me."

"We're with you on that," Dot sneered.

"We just need to find bigger dresses, that's all," Bette smiled, keeping her cool composure. Elsa had already walked away from the rest of them to begin looking at what was in stock for the day. A shop assistant, who looked rather fashionable, also looked quite nervous upon seeing the freaks of nature walking into the shop. She approached Elsa shyly and smiled.

"Is…is there anything you need help with?" she asked, holding her hands together in front of her.

"Oh, no," Elsa said. "I am fine, _danke_."

"We need some help over here," Bette said, looking at the shop assistant as she raised the hand on her side of their body. Dot rolled her eyes at her conjoined twin.

"Oh," the shop assistant muttered, horrified at their conjoined body as she approached them. "I'm sorry, but we don't have dresses for _your _kind."

"All we need is a larger size," Bette said sweetly. "We could both fit in a larger dress."

"We don't_ have_ larger sizes," the shop assistant said with reluctance.

Britta, who was looking at blouses, looked back at Bette and Dot being ridiculed by the shop assistant. _They really aren't treated well in this town_, she thought to herself,_ I hope I am not seen in the same way_.

"Ma'am, we wanna see some dresses," Dot said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," the saleswoman answered.

"Please?" Bette asked.

"Ugh, you're a waste of time," Dot sneered at the sales woman. Britta walked toward the twins and made eye contact with Bette, her dark eyes full of sad emotions.

"_Ursäkta mig_?" she asked. She turned red suddenly—she said the wrong word.

"What did you say?" The saleswoman went right over toward Britta, who gazed at her blankly with red cheeks.

"Oh," Elsa said, walking toward Britta calmly and putting her hands on her shoulders from behind with her focus on the sales woman. "She is our newest headliner. She doesn't know English yet."

"Do you need help?" the saleswoman asked, sweetening her tone. Dot looked at Britta with resentment.

"_Ja_," Elsa said, taking a breath. "I'm sure she would like to see some dresses."

"Hm," the shop assistant grunted.

"There is no need for help," Elsa said, holding up six hangers in both hands with dresses, blouses, and skirts. "Britta, try these on, _liebling_."

"The fitting room is back here," another saleswoman said, who was older by comparison.

"I have some picks of my own," Eve said, her tall self holding up two pairs of bottoms and three tops on hangers. The saleswoman looked up at her strangely and giggled teasingly.

"Yes, sure. Over there," she said, pointing in the direction Britta, Elsa and everyone else was walking in. Elsa handed Britta the clothing she had found for her, and in the fitting room she went with Eve going in the one right next to it. The shop assistants stayed further behind, the younger one whispering to the older.

"It's like a freak show in our own store," she snickered.

"Hush," said the older.

In the fitting room, Britta looked at what was selected for her by Elsa—each clothing article was beautiful, but some had short sleeves. She hated short sleeves. One such article was a sugar pink dress with a squared neckline and skirt that reached the knees. Getting out of the clothes she was wearing, she changed into the dress just get it over with. Opening the door, she looked and saw Eve displaying an outfit consisting of a white, capped-sleeved blouse and a short black skirt that accentuated her abnormally long, slender legs.

"It looks lovely," Bette said with a smile.

"_Schön_," Elsa said with a smile as she clapped. She turned her eyes to Britta, who hid her hands behind her back, and approached her with a smile. Ethel and Dot looked at her in awe, and Elsa placed her hands on her shoulders.

"It is beautiful," she said, looking down at the girl's slender frame. "But we can see it especially well when your arms aren't behind your back."

Britta's eyes widened in shock, and she turned red with embarrassment as she let Elsa gently place her arms from behind her back to her sides. Hiding her forearms carefully under the folds of the skirt, Elsa moved back and admired the sight. Bette loved it, as did everyone else.

"Wow! It's just perfect, Britta!" she exclaimed—Dot rolled her eyes.

Elsa, Ethel, Britta, Dot and Bette, and Eve continued to shop—as they moved from store to store in the little shopping district, people stared at them strangely. From Elsa's flamboyant dress to Ethel's full beard, to Dot and Bette's conjoined nature and Eve's abnormal, great height, people found something to snicker and be rude about. Britta did not feel comfortable, as she was now wearing the sugar pink dress and a brand new, comfortable pair of shoes she had picked herself. She was carrying a bag full of blouses and skirts Elsa had purchased for her and another bag with fancier, casual shoes and a pair only for stage, which would make their debut the next night. She looked to be staring at the ground, but really, she was looking at the deep, intense scarring on her wrists which had come from a much darker time in her life. They were exposed for all to see; she hated looking at them. She hated them. Period.

After being in three of the shops, everyone had purchased something by the time they reached their final stop—the salon. Upon entering, several potential customers left their seats in the waiting area and simply fled the salon. The stylists looked at Elsa, one gulping, and she began to speak.

"I expect to be taken good care of. I am a star after all, as are my…friends here," the woman said. "Chop-chop."

Ethel got a trim and her beard groomed, much to the dismay of the stylist performing the task. Eve got her bangs curled and her hair was given a thorough perm, as well as having her eyebrows plucked. Bette and Dot both took a while for their hair to be done, as the same stylist did both heads on their shared body. They stuck with their normal hairstyles, which were simple black bobs held back by distinctive headbands. Elsa and Britta, on the other hand, were getting manicures and pedicures before having their hair done. Elsa got her hair trimmed and redone into the usual tight curls. Britta, however, was the last to get her hair done—the stylist ran her fingers through her long, golden locks in awe after unbraiding it. Elsa looked at the stylist, smiling at her and handing her a $5 bill for a tip.

"She is our newest headliner," she whispered slyly. "Make her look like a star."

The stylist got to work and did as Elsa asked, cutting Britta's waist-long hair to the shoulders. The girl tried to maintain calm, although she didn't want for her hair to be cut. Luckily, it was still long enough to set large pin curls on the Swede's head. Elsa and the others watched as Britta's golden hair was styled to perfection in the style of bombshell Jayne Mansfield and her eyebrows were plucked. They were not particularly thick to begin with, but it added definition to her arches. The end result was better than just any casual braid she had worn in her lifetime—it was perfection.

"Better," Elsa said, coming forward. "_Much_ better."

"Ooh!" Britta cooed, looking at her reflection in the mirror—she looked and felt more womanly and even modern, as she knew that in Sweden, a crown braid was more traditional for ladies of her age. She lightly touched her hair, gazing in wonder at how her golden locks looked in this hairdo.

"You did the girl up. It's a hella fine job," Ethel said with a smirk.

"I wish I could touch it, Britta," Bette said dreamily. "You look like Jayne Mansfield!"

"Don't ruin it," Dot said firmly. "Jayne is platinum."

"But it looks so pretty on Britta," Bette answered, looking to her sister on their shared body.

"_Vacker_," the Swede whispered softly in admiration of her new, fashionable style. "_Tack så mycket_."

Elsa leaned down toward Britta, getting a closer look at her new look. She was a beautiful young woman, and now she was new and improved. The girl looked back at Elsa who smiled and giggled.

"You are a star," she whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that night, after most of the carnies and Elsa had gone to bed, Britta took it upon herself to explore the great tent once more. She had dined in it with full inclusion by the others, and had taken a seat diagonal from Elsa's head of the table. The meal for that evening was roast beef, green beans, and a warm roll; it was a hit with everyone, and Eve had made it from scratch. The rolls were freshly baked, and the beef was perfectly seasoned.

The tent was rather high as she sat down on the stage, but then she looked at the rows of seats that were always set up and pictured it full of people watching the spectacles made of the freaks of nature that were living there. She had never been on a stage before, and she knew that displaying her rare abilities would be difficult in front of a large group of people. Sighing, she set her focus on a chair from the audience's part of the tent. Within thirty seconds, it began to lift off the ground gradually at a slow pace. Using her mind and turning her head to the side, she spun the wooden chair around as if it were a globe on its axis.

While maintaining her focus on the chair spinning in midair, she stood up on the stage and lifted the microphone and its stand using her rare power. She closed her eyes, and the microphone turned so that the stand was horizontal. The annoying sound of feedback did not break her concentration, but she turned and used her mind to lift the piano gently off the ground, the sound of feedback still filling the tent. Little did she know that Jimmy had entered and saw the whole thing—he watched in awe and fascination as Britta levitated the three objects without breaking focus.

"Wow," he said.

As she turned to focus on another object, she saw Jimmy, losing her focus and making even more noise as the piano dropped back on the stage.

_BANG!_ The piano keys all sounded to make a disturbing, stinging noise.

_CLANG!_ The microphone and its stand fell and a squeaking noise was heard from more intense feedback.

_PLOP!_ The chair fell on the ground and landed on its back and hind legs. Britta looked at him and turned red. Jimmy walked closer to the stage, staring up at her as she sat back down on the edge.

"That was amazing!" he exclaimed. "Where did you learn…uh…how did you—"

Jimmy stopped his curious babbling and looked at Britta, deeply impressed by what Elsa meant by "rare abilities". He placed his deformed hands, now exposed in front of her for the first time, on his hips and took a huffy breath, chuckling as he moved closer. He shook his head and smiled at her, still in disbelief of what she was able to do.

However, Britta remained silent, her eyes looking at the peculiarity of his hands. Jimmy noticed her staring, and he held one up for her to see.

"_Åh gode gud_!" she exclaimed, getting off the stage and racing toward him to look, continuing to speak her native tongue frantically. "What happened to you?" Jimmy took her tone of voice as fearful and scared, looking at her and trying to calm her down.

"I've had my hands like this my whole life," he replied. "I was born with it."

Out of plain curiosity, Britta took his hand gently by the wrist, looking at his fused fingers and oversized hand. Jimmy was slightly confused, and somehow felt like her gaze was ridiculing him. Even the women he had "serviced" displayed apprehension and fear at him touching and pleasuring them, but they still enjoyed it and used his weakness to give them strength in areas their husbands refused them. Britta proceeded to look at his palms before feeling his fused fingers; then, he suddenly pulled them away and glared at her harshly, taking a sharp breath through his nose before speaking.

"You're just like all _rest_," he hissed. "I don't know why Elsa brought you here. You're _normal_."

"Eh?"

She looked at him, keeping quiet as she listened. When he stopped seething at her after unknowingly mistaking her concern for fear, he noticed the heavy, intense scarring across her wrists—once he grabbed her hand to get a better look, she let out a scream of embarrassment as she tried to pull her hand away. Jimmy groaned and sighed with frustration, his anger getting the best of him as she hollered for help in having him release her.

"Help!" she screamed in Swedish.

"Yeah, you're gonna call me a freak now?!" Jimmy shouted. "Now that you seen all of me, you think I don't know what you're saying?!"

"Let me go!" she shouted, feeling tears forming in her bright green eyes as she tried to walk away from him. Thinking of her painful past made her heart break every time the disturbing images, miserable faces, and tragic events popped into her mind. He was not helping matters by yelling at her with false assumptions of what she was thinking. He felt a fire burning within him, looking down at her odiously as he gritted his teeth.

"SAY IT!" he shouted. "I dare you! Say I'm a 'freak'! What are you waiting for?! You don't speak English, but that's the first thing you'll be learning—"

"Stop yelling at me!" Britta exclaimed tearfully, her mind wandering to a different place as he unjustly shouted at her.

"You're normal!" he said fiercely. "You don't belong here! I saw what you did, but you still don't belong here!"

_THUD!_

Jimmy felt himself letting her heavily scarred wrist go, falling backward onto the dirt floor of the big top tent. Britta looked down at him with shock, knowing full well that she made him fall by use of her abilities. He looked up at her with wide eyes and looked behind him to see both Elsa and his mother, the bearded Ethel, walking into the large tent and seeing him on the solid dirt floor.

"_Scheisse_," Elsa whispered, the fringes of the neckline of her robe moving gracefully with her. "What are you two fighting about in here?"

"Elsa, she's scared of me," Jimmy said. "I could tell she was calling me a freak."

"Jimmy," Ethel said. "What did ya do?"

"Nothing!" her son answered. "I just held her wrist to see those marks, that's all."

"That would be none of your business anyhow, you _selfish_ good-for-nothing," Elsa seethed in her German accent. "She obviously _was_ afraid of you because you were _yelling_ at her."

Ethel walked up to a tearful Britta, looking down into her tearful green eyes as she saw her straight face stop trembling.

"You go back in the caravan and get ready for sleepin'. I'll be back in. I gotta have a word with Jimmy." When she hesitated, she continued to talk; "go on. Now."

When she left the big top, Jimmy could feel his blood still boiling within, looking at Britta as she walked sheepishly out of the great tent. Then, a thick, German accent caught his attention, seeing Elsa's presence close to him with her piercing hazel eyes, her thin eyebrows furrowed in with deep frustration.

"Elsa, she has scars on her wrist," Jimmy repeated. "I only wanted to see."

"Do you see how fragile that angel is?" she asked. "Don't you _ever _raise your voice or your _hands_ to her again!"

"Elsa, I wasn't—"

"I don't want to hear any more about it," she hissed. "She is _here_, now. The least you could do is not _scare_ her off!"

"I wasn't—"

"Good night," Elsa said, walking away from the bearded lady and her deformed son and out of the big top tent before Ethel raised her finger to her son, who looked down at her with a shrug.

"Ma, I didn't do anything wrong," Jimmy explained. "I could just_ tell_ she was scared and calling me a _freak _in whatever language she speaks."

"Jimmy, ya need to watch yer temper," she instructed. "How do ya know _that_ didn't scare 'er?"

"She saw my hands, took one of them…" he recalled.

"She probably thought you were injured or some shit!" Ethel concluded. "And why were ya on the floor? Did she push ya?"

"No…no, she didn't," he said. "I don't know. I just fell."

"If she did, you deserve it," Ethel sighed wearily. "Now go to bed. It's late as it is."

As he watched his mother walk away, he looked down at one of the wooden chairs set up where the audience would sit during shows. He kicked the side of it and grunted, plopping down on the seat and putting his deformed, calloused hands to his forehead, rubbing roughly as he tried to calm himself down. _Maybe they're right_, he thought, _I yelled for no reason. Damn it! I can't believe I did that!_ He took a deep breath. _I hope she understands when I apologize. I _have _to apologize_.


	6. Chapter 6

The following night, that Saturday, was Britta's debut in the freak show she had been brought to just two days earlier. As the few interested townspeople took their seats in the audience, everyone was backstage getting ready and primped. At the makeup desks, Eve was having her hair styled and her makeup applied, as was the petite-in-height Ma Petit and three-breasted Desiree right next to her. Jimmy slicked back his hair with a thick layer of gel and made sure to fix his trademark curl in the front of his forehead. Clad in a red button-up t-shirt, plain jeans and his biker boots, he felt ready to go even though he worried about Britta. _I hope she isn't mad at me_, he thought, _I feel so bad that I yelled at her. I hope she wasn't really scared of me._

Strongman Dell Toledo was prepping his bulky self by lifting 200-pound weights, while Paul practiced mini routines with his arms. Pepper and Salty just sat there, trying to analyze the hype of the action backstage as they clapped in delight. Ethel sat in her elaborate, bohemian-styled stage garb, getting her beard groomed and trimmed to perfection. Elsa had already gotten ready backstage, but Britta was sitting in her comfortable stool—the woman had made sure her shoulder-length blonde pin curls were set and made sure to pluck her eyebrows a little bit thinner.

"Ow!"

"Stay still," Elsa ordered. "It won't hurt you if you stay still." She proceeded to pluck another stray eyebrow hair.

"Ah," Britta groaned. Within the next minute, Elsa had finished, and looked at both her eyebrows, smiling.

"_Schön_," she said. "It's time for makeup, now. You will look beautiful."

Looking at the time and seeing she had ten more minutes, she began applying really light powder makeup to hide her light freckles across the bridge of her nose. After putting on eyebrow makeup, she then put on a generous amount of green and sage-colored eyeshadow. To contrast the intensity of the green, Elsa painted her lips bright red with a creamy lipstick before applying rouge to highlight her cheekbones. Britta looked in the mirror after it was finished and gasped—her makeup was just as heavy as Elsa's, and was a bit too intense for her to pay mind to.

"Oh, _mein gott_, you look gorgeous!" she squealed happily. "I knew you'd look lovely."

Britta smiled shyly and stood up from the stool, looking down at the outfit she had chosen for herself. It was rather simple, but she looked elegant as well as traditional. It consisted of a white blouse, dark blue skirt with crinoline to make it look fuller, and plain white stockings held up with black garters on her lower thighs. Her shoes were black heels with flowers embroidered on the outsides, giving them a feel reminiscent of the traditional costume of her homeland and the embroidery that her late mother, a seamstress, used to do. Her heart raced with anxiety as she took a breath. Elsa looked at her encouragingly.

"You are a_ star_. You will wow the town_ and _the world with your extraordinary talents," she said. "It's almost showtime, _leibchen_."

By the time the show was to begin, the seats in the audience were half-full of interested townspeople and even spectators from a few cities over. Ethel, the bearded lady, was applauded and gawked at in awe by the audience. She was charismatic, her voice loud and clear as she introduced herself and the organization to the crowd.

"Good evening," she began. "Welcome to Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities. I am Ethel Darling, America's Bearded Sweetheart, and you have come tonight to see some of the strangest oddities the world has ever seen."

A roar of clapping and cheering, oohs and ahhs, and screams of fright and delight filled the great tent as the roar continued. Ethel continued her monologue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, get ready to feast your eyes on real freaks of nature who only come out during the security of the night! Tonight, we have with us…Lobster Boy!"

Jimmy took his cue, and the spotlight shone on him brightly like the sun on a hot summer's day. As he extended his hands in front of him and walked out on stage, gasps, oohs and ahhs filled the air. He then raised his hands, palms facing outward, and made a motion similar to scissors or a crab with his claws. There was a scream in the audience, as well as more gasping and people looking in disbelief.

"The Three-Breasted Woman!" Ethel called out. The spotlight shown on Desiree, who danced suggestively with her full, long skirt and her two cleavages showing through her shirt. More oohs and ahhs sprung from the audience, as well as the usual stares of shock.

"The state's Strongest Man, Dell Toledo!" Another spotlight shown on Dell, who wore a ridiculously flamboyant caveman costume as he proceeded to lift the piano over his head. This drew a lot of squeals of excitement, jaws dropping at his immense strength.

"The Pinheads!" A light shown on Pepper and Salty, who stood there staring at the audience absent-mindedly. They provoked a reaction of disgust and contempt. _Eew! Gross! Wow!_

"Paul the Tattooed Seal!" When the light shone on him, he made such a fluid movement with his short arms, inciting a shocked reaction as he did so.

"And now, the matron of our era; our first full act! Please welcome a live performance by the chanteuse of pre-war Berlin, Fraulein Elsa Mars!"

The curtain opened slowly, and Elsa, dressed in a sky blue pantsuit with flamboyant blue eyeshadow, rouged cheeks and red lips. A mini prop rocket, upon which she was sitting, was sent out on the stage. She stood up as she began to sing in her low, husky voice:

"_It's a god-awful small affair  
To the girl with the mousy hair  
But her mummy is yelling "No"  
And her daddy has told her to go_

_But her friend is nowhere to be seen  
Now she walks through her sunken dream  
To the seat with the clearest view  
And she's hooked to the silver screen_…"

Eve was playing the melody on the piano to accompany Elsa's unique voice, while Paul played the drums. Acrobats on suspended rings performed tricks in the background, and a sword-swallower performed a mini act on the side of the stage. Pepper and Salty were moving props to simulate animation, while the rest of the acts were backstage waiting for their turn to be displayed. Britta's heart raced, as she was tense and edgy about being displayed for her rare abilities—she stared out on the stage, looking at Elsa and watching her performance. She seemed to be so comfortable in and being familiar with the spotlight; it was something she felt she could never do. She was so used to being left to her own devices and in solitude—how could Elsa possibly believe that she could just walk on stage and "perform" something when she couldn't?

When Elsa finished her performance, only half of the audience clapped. Feeling disillusioned, the curtain closed and she rested her forehead on the head of the microphone with a sad sigh. After a few moments, she turned her attention to Britta, who stood nervously with the other carnies fiddling with her fingers. Elsa sighed, walking toward her and directing her on the stage.

"It's time now," the German woman whispered. Britta, nodding softly and obediently, walked on the stage slowly with the other acts, especially Jimmy, Eve, and Dot and Bette, watching her sheepish movements. He looked at her, hoping for the best—she needed all the luck she could get.

"And now, feast your eyes on our _newest_ member. From the cold recesses of Scandinavia, this young woman has a rare gift to share with you all. Introducing…Britta Nordlund!"

As the curtain opened, she became more and more anxious as they all clapped. The audience, seeing her golden blonde hair in Mansfield pin curls, her heavy, intensely pigmented makeup, and her simple clothing was silent and confused. She had no physical deformities—but little did they know that she had a gift that set her apart from all the rest. The girl's bright green eyes stared off into the audience, and as she looked down, she sighed sadly. She picked up her head to pull out a rubber ball the size of a small musical jewelry box, holding her hand up and flattening it at she set her focus on it—before her power could manifest itself, booing could be heard from the audience, and someone even chucked a ripe, red tomato at her. Before it could hit her, she managed to focus on the two objects, both the ball and the tomato, and cause them to levitate before the eyes of the spectators. Everyone gasped in shock, their jaws dropping so low they got sore, and their eyes bulging in surprise.

"It's floating!" one woman said, a hand to her chest with her kerchief.

"How is she doing that?" a man wondered.

Britta then took out another ball, and while maintaining focus on the other objects, she caused this one to float as well. Using corresponding hand gestures, she arranged the levitating objects into a rotating circle in front of her, creating a roar in the audience as they cheered, ooh'ed and ahh'ed at the miraculous, unreal sight. The other acts backstage were all surprised to finally see why she was one of them—Elsa looked in pure delight, and Jimmy's jaw dropped. Everyone was speechless; some cried with joy; some condemned it as evil; but nevertheless, everyone would soon know that Britta was extraordinarily gifted. When the act was over, the girl reached up and grabbed the objects she lifted, curtseying to the audience as they tossed a few roses in shades of white, red and pink up at her. Smiling, she exited to the left part of the stage, but her grin faded to form a nervous facial expression as Elsa approached her to hug her.

"_Meine leibchen_! That was _wunderbar_! _Wunderbar_!" she exclaimed excitedly as she planted a big kiss on the girl's cheek, leaving smudged lipstick. Britta turned red and chuckled, wiping the mark left by the older German woman. She sighed.

"_Tack. Tack så mycket_," she said, not understanding German but having an idea of what she meant.

After each carnie had their turn on stage presenting their act and making the audience fascinated and frightened, the usual meet-and-greet of the freaks took place. There was a person meeting and interacting with each member of the troupe, including Elsa herself. Jimmy was met by a swarm of girls and women, some of whom he had serviced before, who were batting their eyelashes and posing suggestively.

"Oh, how I miss you," one said with a smile.

"You're right, he's hella fine!" the other said.

"Let me know if you need anything, honey. I gave you my number, right?" one of them, an older woman of about forty, said softly in a whisper. Jimmy, taken by their humor at first, shook his head but glanced over at Britta, who was surrounded by a good majority of the audience. He saw the blank expression on her face and her red cheeks to show her shyness and embarrassment at being approached by so many people—something that, before, she rarely experienced.

"I need a photo with you for the _Jupiter Times_!" a reporter said with his camera. He got one, but after, everyone was relentless.

"Please make this levitate!" a teenager said, giving her his wallet. Several others did the same, handing her tomatoes, lettuce, and other things if she, as the new act, didn't please the audience.

"I need your autograph! Please sign!" a young girl of the same age pleaded, holding out her autograph book which held the same signatures as John Wayne and Marilyn Monroe on the open page. Another, noticing that she wasn't speaking, remarked rudely.

"Do you even speak English?" he asked.

"What part of Scandinavia are you from?"

"Is it cold up there? Better get used to the Florida heat!"

Hearing the commotion, Jimmy shook his head and walked over to intervene, but the ladies who flocked around him followed him relentlessly.

"I'll pay you $100 if you come to my place this week! My husband is in New York on business!" the older woman said. Jimmy, aggravated and stressed, looked at the women and felt to be as direct as he could.

"I'm sorry, I'm outta business," he stated coldly. The women looked at each other in shock, offended by his rejection as he continued toward the throng flocking around a nervous Britta.

"Alright! Back away!" he said, raising his deformed hands. People let out shrieks of fright once they saw his fused fingers and abnormal hand size; Jimmy continued to work his way through and went in front of the Swede like a shield. He waved his arms more.

"Please," he called out. "Stop it. Get away from her. She doesn't want to talk to anyone. No." Britta looked at him, raising her eyebrows gently.

"Get out of the way, freak!" the rude man said. "Don't you have women to diddle?"

"_Hey_! What's your problem?!" Jimmy barked.

"You! Get out of my way!" the rude man exclaimed, pushing him and provoking his short temper to come out and push him back.

"Why you—"

Before he could attack the man, Eve and Paul intervened, pulling him back away from danger. The man, however, removed his suit jacket and a space had been cleared for a potential fight.

"Stop! Jimmy! It's not worth it!" Paul said, his short arms and thin body blocking him like a wall.

"Calm down," Eve said, holding his shoulders and towering over him with her tall self. The man picked up his jacket and walked away, scared of the abnormally giant woman.

Britta, intimidated, walked away from the scene and successfully walked out of the big top tent. She began to scurry further away from the diabolical-looking entrance and down the small, dirt avenue of tents, trailers and caravans. She slowed down once she approached the stationary carousel, but suddenly felt a familiar hand grab her thin, willowy wrist.

_Ah!_

Jerking herself around, she set her vivid, peridot-colored eyes on the handsome young man with deep, dark brown eyes and gelled auburn-brown curls in the front of his forehead—it was Jimmy, the one with deformed hands who had also yelled at her aimlessly just days before.

"Aw, you ain't scared of me again, are you?"

Britta furrowed her thin, made-up brows inward and eased her hand from his calloused grasp, rubbing her wrist from where she felt the most pressure. Jimmy just stared down at her, thinking of Elsa and how she always put on gaudy makeup. She had done the same to Britta, but he knew she looked so much better without all of that ornamentation. Plus, it did not look right with her simple ensemble. _She looks angry_, he thought before speaking to her.

"_Please_ don't be mad at me. I'm sorry I yelled at you a couple nights ago," he said with a sincere tone. "Do you forgive me?"

Britta's facial expression softened up, biting her lower lip and squirming at him with both confusion and genuine forgiveness—she knew he was trying to apologize, especially since she noticed one of his fused digits was pressed to his chest as if to express undying emotions of the amorous sort.

"I can't understand you. I don't speak English, remember?" she said in her native tongue. Jimmy's eyes widened, confused—her voice sounded like a monotone and without significant expression.

"_What_?" he asked, watching her walk away from him slowly. He watched her delicate, graceful movements toward his mother's caravan, and just before going up the front steps, he saw her turn around and wave.

"_God natt_," she said, loud enough for him to hear her. Jimmy smirked, putting his hands in his pockets as he watched her go up a couple of steps. He moved three steps forward and called her name, causing her to look behind her and right at him.

"It's _good night_," he corrected kindly.

"Uh…" Britta sighed and smiled with the sparkle in her eyes. "G-Good…night."

His face lit up, showing his pearly whites and his charming dimples as he heard her speak her first English words. He felt so proud of himself, and as she walked into his mother's caravan, Jimmy felt his face start to flush, a blushing streak appearing on his cheeks. _What a relief_, he thought, _she ain't mad_.


	7. Chapter 7

_Early the next morning…_

In an unusually-decorated playroom, a man was sitting at a stark white desk with a newspaper in front of him. The walls were a girlish pink, and there were toys suitable for a young child, such as a crib mobile hanging from the ceiling, a wooden rocking horse, a toy box full of rubber bouncy balls, crank toys, jack-in-the-boxes and other strange objects for a grown man to own.

Looking down at the front page, he was fixed on the image of the town's newest overnight sensation. The headline said it all; "_Young Woman Uplifts Crowds: Newest Sideshow Attraction a Hit_"—the black and white, somewhat blurry photo of a young woman with a blonde crown braid, a simple outfit consisting of a long sleeved white blouse and dark-colored skirt, completed with embroidered shoes and vivid makeup. Chuckling slyly, he traced along the straight outline of the photo and proceeded to cut it out of the issue and glue it into his scrapbook next to a photo of his mother, whose life he had taken some time before.

"Mother, I've found myself a wife," he chuckled. He ran a finger over the photo of his mother, smiling triumphantly. "I hated you so much, but now I still feel inclined to make you proud. Those freaks want to reject me? I'll take from them their biggest star." He heard a grunt.

Turning his back and closing his scrapbook quickly, he was relieved to see it was Twisty, the mute clown who had been hired by Gloria, his mother, for his own amusement. He was paid a hefty sum just to keep her son happy and occupied as he lived out his lonely, emotionally-oppressed life within their luxurious mansion on the hill. After her killing, he received a large inheritance including the mansion and over two million dollars. Not only was Twisty being given half the inheritance, but he was now living with this man—his name was Dandy.

It was no wonder the freak show rejected him. Sure, he wasn't the most mentally stable person, and he didn't have any deformities that were extraordinary enough. The moment his mother took him to see the freak show, in which they were the only two people in the audience, he was enamored with the conjoined twins, Bette and Dot. His mother had even tried to negotiate a price and requested to purchase them from Elsa before blatantly insulting her singing. In the days following his experience, he went to the freak show during an off-hour and encountered Jimmy. He remembered the incident which made him snap so clearly.

"_This is the perfect place for me!" Dandy had said with joy in his voice, trying to persuade the hot-tempered young man. _

"_It's nothing like you'd imagine," Jimmy replied, trying to maintain calm. "You wouldn't last one day here."_

"_I belong here! You are like me, and I am like you!" the happy disillusioned man claimed, smiling to be as convincing as possible._

_ Jimmy, not amused by what he considered a "sick joke" to poke fun of his and the other's deformities and shortcomings, grabbed Dandy's normal hand and held it up, comparing it to his own to prove his point as he gave his fiery response. _

"_You know what I wouldn't give to have real hands like yours?" he snapped, staring him straight in his clear, strange blue eyes. "To be able to touch a girl without scaring her? From where I'm sitting, you got the world on a string. So, you go home to your mansion on the hill, and you thank God for all you got!"_

Dandy turned red with fury when this memory struck his mind, and he jumped up, pounding his fists on the table only to take a deep breath afterwards. Twisty was watching him, his scary self dressed in his dirty white clown suit, a mouthpiece depicting a frightening smile to mask his loathsome mouth injury, a horn-like headpiece on his bald head, and his costume makeup was smudged to add to his slovenly appearance. He never spoke, but always carried a sack filled with strange objects, even toys for the child he had kept kidnapped in a secluded trailer in the forest nearby. That had been Dandy and Twisty's "playhouse" for the time being—well, at least until they planned to kill the boy, the woman, and the teenage boy they kept hostage. Dandy shook his head at Twisty and laughed sinisterly.

"Your silence is utterly provocative," he stated.

* * *

"Wake up, _meine leibchen_," Elsa whispered, watching Britta's delicate face as she slept. It was now 10:00 in the morning, way too late for any of the carnies to be sleeping. She had fallen asleep in her clothes from the night before, and she moaned slightly as she opened her eyes. Elsa moved a stray piece of blonde hair away from her face.

"Huh?" She looked at Elsa. "Oh, _god morgon_."

"_Guten tag_," Elsa said cordially. "It's very late to be sleeping, _ja_?" Britta stirred a little and rubbed her eyes, looking up at the German as she continued to speak.

"You were _wunderbar_ last night," Elsa smiled. "A sensation known to all. They threw a tomato at you, but you turn it around so fast."

Standing up, she reached into the trunk used to store Britta's belongings and took out a mauve, button-up blouse and a floral skirt that matched. Handing them to Britta, she nodded affirmatively.

"Get dressed and washed up," Elsa said, walking toward the door and opening it. "We will be waiting for you."

Britta did as directed, going into the bathroom and taking off her old clothes, running the water for a bath as she fluffed her permed, shoulder-length golden hair. Once the bathtub filled, she got in and used the lavender-scented soap on herself while alternating with water to rinse. When holding the soap in her hands, she looked down at the deep scars across her wrists—sighing, a terrible memory came to mind, causing a tear to roll down her cheek. It had been the memory of attempting to take her own life, an event which led to her cruel, abusive foster parents sending her away to Konradsberg, the mental hospital in which she spent three years in Stockholm. She had been fifteen at the time, but even though she was now eighteen years of age, seeing them still triggered memories of an even more traumatic event she wouldn't dare to think about. Jimmy had noticed and tried to see the scars up close; it is no wonder she wouldn't let him. Yet he also yelled at her out of thinking . The voices of those terrible people played in her mind like a worn-out recording…

"_You're going to Stockholm. We've had it with you."_

"_We should have left you in that godforsaken orphanage! You probably caused that fire doing what you do!" _

"_You have the devil's power!"_

"_The pastor must pity you because he knows he can't save your soul."_

"_You're going to Hell, little girl!"_

"_STAY DOWN THERE!"_

"AHH!"

The girl clawed the sides of her head, gripping some of her hair as she shut her eyes and shook her head to block out the voices that haunted her from her past. When she opened her eyes, she saw herself back in the bathtub—her hair had only been subtly washed, and she got out and dried off with a sage green, absorbent towel before changing into the outfit chosen for her by Elsa. She proceeded to brush her permed pin-curls gently and using small combs, she pinned it back away from her face with some voluminous strands going slightly past the front of her shoulders.

She got out of Ethel's caravan and walked down the dirt avenue with neighboring caravans, tents and trailers. Her eyes were slightly red, and tears had dried to her face; wiping them away, she managed to make her way toward the great tent, where everyone met and were playing games, reading, or socializing with each other. Amazon Eve and Ma Petit were looking at a globe, exploring the maps present as they spun it. Salty and Pepper were trying to play checkers. Elsa was sitting in her chair with the newspaper when she saw Britta enter, and Jimmy sat alone, his forehead in his palm as he slouched over.

"Britta, you made the front page," Elsa said with a smile, smoking a cigarette. "Congratulations,_ liebchen_."

The girl took the paper and saw a photo the journalist had taken the night before of her dressed simply but elegantly, a neutral expression on her face as the crowd from the audience swarmed her and made unattainable requests, like asking her to levitate something or if she spoke any English. The headline was clear: "_Young Woman Uplifts Crowds: Newest Sideshow Attraction a Hit_"; the accompanying story was nonsense to Britta, as she only understood a fraction of it. Jimmy got out of his deep thinking state of mind and looked at the young woman with admiration. He stood up and approached her, leaning in to see what Elsa had been talking about.

"You were great last night, Britta," he said. She smiled a closed grin, and nodded, looking down at the paper and seeing herself standing there in her simple, traditional ensemble in the black and white photograph.

"That's me," she whispered in her mother tongue.

"What?" Jimmy asked with confusion, noticing her reverent opinion on seeing herself on the newspaper's front page and dead center. Then, he felt a familiar presence lean in a whisper to him; it was Elsa.

"She is proud of herself," she whispered in her thick accent. "Let her gloat in her humble way that she does."

Ma Petit, who was standing on the table, looked at the globe where Europe was, and where Sweden was labeled one country in from Norway, she looked over at her and began speaking in her adorable, small voice. Britta looked over at her and smiled, stepping closer to the table and putting the newspaper on the surface as she sat down on the chair directly across from Amazon Eve. The tall woman with strong features looked down at her as she walked over with Jimmy following, seeing her sit down and have her attention caught by Ma Petit's brightly-colored sari. Then, Britta looked to Eve, who smiled and spoke in her low, soft-spoken voice as she noticed the girl's frail, thin arms reach up and open as if to try and hold the miniature Indian woman.

"If you want to pick her up," she whispered, "you have to be careful. She's fragile."

Looking and judging by her size and stature, Britta knew that she had to be careful with Ma Petit, whose slanted, small dark eyes looked in her direction and walked over to her. With a toothy smile, she let the willowy, golden-haired Swede hold her in her lap. At the same time, Jimmy smiled down at the young women, seeing them exchange grins with each other. He watched Ma Petit reach up to touch Britta's hair, smiling with admiration in her small, beady eyes as he small, jeweled hands and long fingernails ran through the bottom of her shoulder-length pin curls.

"You are so pretty, Miss Britta," said the small Indian lady in her tiny-sounding, high-pitched voice.

"Aw!" exclaimed the young Swedish woman, who began to gently return the favor by touching the Indian woman's long, eat black braid woven neatly and expertly tied with a pink ribbon at the end. There was a pause, and once Britta began to speak her mother tongue, the only language she knew best, everyone was quiet and listened even though they could not understand a word she was saying. Britta's voice itself sounded soft and feminine; it was just the right pitch.

"In Sweden, I wore braids," she said. "I cannot braid mine anymore. My _mamma _wore hers around her head, like…" The Swede gently took Ma Petit's long black braid and gently formed it around the crown of her head without fastening it, demonstrating what she meant to say but could not; "this."

"_Mamma_?" Ma Petit asked while fixing her braid back, as it was the only word she understood in her sentence.

"_Min_ _mamma_," Britta said in Swedish, putting her down on the table and sighing sadly. Meanwhile, Jimmy felt in his gut something was wrong as he saw her stand up from her chair and walk slowly toward the big top's entrance. Amazon Eve looked in her direction with concern, seeing Jimmy was feeling the same way as well.

"Is she alright?" she questioned in her strong, but soft-spoken tone.

"I'm going to find out," he answered, walking toward the entrance and following her not far behind.

Once he was outside, he sprinted up toward her, meeting her at the side. She looked at him as he talked.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked. "Britta?"

"_Ja_?" she asked in response to her name being said by the handsome man with deformed hands, dark eyes, and charming cheek dimples.

"Britta, please," he began. "I know something is wrong. You won't tell me, and I'm freakin' out. Did I do anything wrong to you?"

She just stared at him, noticing his tone of voice.

"Why do you shy away from the others? _ME_?" he asked, intimidating her again with his tone of voice. "I saw those scars on your wrists. You had to have gone through something really bad."

Britta looked down and sighed sadly—the grass had gotten greener, but it was nevertheless still mottled with patches of beige. Then, she turned her focus toward the forested area near the grounds, the tall tress and bushy shrubs. Jimmy, realizing that his tone may have offended her, took a breath and calmed himself down.

"Britta?"

"_Ja_?" she looked at him, responding to her name again as he said it.

"I'm sorry if I've ever been a jerk to you. Or in front of you," he told her. "I lose my temper sometimes, and at the wrong times at that. Sometimes the wrong people. Look," he explained as he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she looked him in his dark brown eyes. "I should probably mind my own damn business, but it ain't everyday where I'm really concerned for someone. You can trust me. I ain't gonna judge, none of that shit. You can tell me anything." He raised his hands up as if to shrug, but he didn't. He put them to his chest. "I'm a friend. I always will be, you hear?"


	8. Chapter 8

In the month following Britta's debut performance in Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities, a lot had gone on in her life but she seemed to be going in the right direction. Her weekly performances wowed the audience over and over, and after four weeks the crowds grew exponentially. Elsa was reaping in cash up to her ears, but she didn't wallow in the increase of income she had gotten—she took the liberty of hiring an English teacher for Britta in order for her to learn the language well enough to speak effectively and comprehensively. Dr. John McMullen, a former English professor with a doctorate in Linguistics and a minor in English language, was paid $60 for only three days—Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday—of two-hour sessions per week. He also was a substitute teacher at the high school and lectured at the college a few cities over. The first day he came, Britta was very nervous. She wanted to make a good impression, even though she could not speak a word of English.

He was an older man of about sixty—thinning, gray hair, large glasses over his small gray eyes, and very heavy seat in his usual suit and tie. He carried a small leather briefcase, in which he held lined paper, an English pronunciation guide, and mini vocabulary quizzes he had often given his students. He had a stern expression and a strong, didactic voice, which came into great use with his teaching but made him look uptight and hapless with winning the favor of those he taught. However, what he did teach successfully allowed him to leave a lasting impression. His sessions with Britta were held in an open tent outside when it was sunny, but when the rain came, they went to a secluded area in the great tent where, if the other carnies were there on their down time, they were told not to go near them.

The first thing they had gone over together was pronunciation, a topic they had to warm up with every session because Britta, due to her lack of English knowledge, had problems sounding out certain letters in order to say certain words in English. She learned basic phrases really fast, but sentences she had trouble with. Some words she had trouble pronouncing as she spoke simple English with a thick accent. Mr. McMullen shook his head and corrected her every time she made a mistake. He held the sheet out in front of her so she could see and try to say the letters. It's so different, she thought. Mr. McMullen had his finger on W after spending nearly the whole hour trying to work on her pronunciation.

"W," he said.

"Dubba-ew," she repeated, pronouncing it exactly as it was given to her.

"As in winter," he said, citing an example.

"_V…Veenter_," Britta said, forgetting the sound the letter made.

"No. It's not '_veenter_'. It's '_winter_'." Mr. McMullen said, checking the time on his watch—they only had five minutes left. Britta struggled to make the English sound of W, and when she thought she got it, she tried to say the word again.

"_W…Weenter_," she said, rolling the R really hard on her palate.

"Alright, this is testing my patience. A W does _not_ sound like a V, and an I does _not _sound like a double-E," he said, on the verge of putting his content away. Britta looked at him strangely, feeling pressured and stressed because he gave off the impression that her accent had to go away completely for her to fully master a second language.

"I...am trying," she said in her thick accent. "Really."

"Remember the letter J?" the tutor asked, putting his finger on the corresponding letter.

"_Jay_?" Britta asked, trying to say it right.

"Yes. Remember how it sounds?" He then proceeded to look through his content to find a list of words that start with the letter J, holding it out for her. "Here, say these words. Remember the J sound."

Britta took the piece of paper and looked down at it, reading each word exactly how it sounded in her head: "Yoyg, yar, yacket, job, jins, joornee—"

"Alright, I think that's _enough_ for today," he said, snatching the piece of paper from Britta and placing it in his briefcase with his other materials. Her peridot-colored eyes widened in shock, seeing him stand up and put the latches on the leather straps keeping his case together.

"Where you going?" the Swede questioned in her thick intonation.

"To talk to your employer, Britta. You have a_ long_ road ahead if you're ever going to improve," he said sternly.

After a few weeks of sessions, Elsa had eavesdropped and observed from a distance how Britta's progress was going. Mr. McMullen was a good teacher, but she didn't agree with him trying to rid her of the accent that, to Elsa, had made her charming and fun to listen to when she started speaking English more often. Remembering a time when she had to learn English herself, she had a teacher who did not want to rid her of her accent, and therefore it was quite different. When that session of her observation was finished, Elsa stopped Mr. McMullen and dismissed Britta so they could talk in privacy.

"Are you trying to make her lose that precious accent, Mr. McMullen?" she asked sternly. "Or completely forget her mother tongue?"

"I'm trying to make her sound better when she speaks. She's already learned some new words that can be put to use. She just needs to pronounce them correctly without an accent," he said to her. "She has a _long_ road ahead of her, Miss Mars."

"Maybe you can shorten the road for her." Elsa sneered politely, looking up at him and pursing her lips inward.

"I have several English students here in town that are Mexican, speak Spanish and learn English very fast," he told her. "Swedish is a whole new animal. She can't even pronounce J's, W's, or even G's at the ends of certain words."

"_I_ still learned English," Elsa said. "You just aren't trying because you have no experience."

"Oh, I am," he said, raising his voice slightly. "And you're right, I have no experience teaching a Swedish person English."

"Then why did I hire you? Why have I been paying you $60 a week for?" she asked, getting mad.

"Because I have credentials and I will never pass up a challenge when it's handed to me on a silver platter," he said, looking and talking down to her, pointing a finger at her. "Besides, she can't be the _Freak Who Can't Speak_ forever."

That did it! Elsa was furious at his disrespect toward the girl, and with all her might, pushed him away from her and began cursing in German.

"Get out! _Schnell_! You are fired!" she shouted. Mr. McMullen, scared of the woman's anger, took all his stuff and ran out of the open tent with everyone watching. Jimmy looked at the scene strangely, bringing his eyebrows inward and chuckling slightly. Pepper, Salty, Ma Petit, and Legless Suzy watched as well, but their reactions were more so fidgety and anxious as they saw the man running toward his car and getting into the driver's seat. Once he started the ignition, he rolled down the window and shouted crudely: "FREAKS!"

Jimmy, angry and offended, started to run toward the car with his fists clenched tightly as if to punch him. Eve and Paul caught up to him to try and hold him back, but Jimmy pushed past them a bit before yelling out at the rude man.

"Jerk! I'LL KICK YOUR ASS! YOU WANNA SEE A _FREAK_? YOU'LL GET ONE!" the young, fiery-tempered man shouted as he punched his palms.

"Jimmy! Stop!" Eve pleaded, hands on his shoulders. "It isn't worth it. He's gone."

"The next time I see him…" He grunted, the anger still in him.

"Don't lose your head," Paul said, his short arm in front of Jimmy. "He's not worth it. He's gone. Stop, alright?"

Jimmy stormed away from the scene and made his way to his trailer, slamming the door and sitting down, grunting and trying to let off some steam. He looked over at the small speed bag suspended from his ceiling and walked up to it, punching it violently and causing it to nearly fall off before continuing to punch it over and over again, maintaining his focus and channeling his anger into it. Unbeknownst to him, his mother Ethel came in with a plate that held a turkey and cheese sandwich with lettuce. Setting it on a small table, she sat down on his bed and watched him furiously punch the speed bag.

"You seem happy," she said sarcastically. He heard her, stopping what he was doing and sitting down on a folding chair, his heart rate having been risen and his breathing heavier than before.

"I brought ya lunch," she said.

"Thanks," he muttered, still angry at what happened.

"I saw what happened out there," Ethel added.

"I'm sick of this," Jimmy said, leaning back on the chair and putting his hands behind his head to support it. "Why _us_? Why do we gotta be stuck here?"

"The world ain't a place for people like us. This is the best we can get," she explained.

"We're treated like shit everyday just because we're different," he said firmly, an angry expression on his face. "I wish people could just see that we are just like_ them_!"

"The world's a cruel place. Besides, Elsa took us in and is takin' good care of us," she told him, looking at his sweaty white tank top.

"By keeping us cooped up like this? I feel like a common criminal," he said, pointing to himself. "I hate having to slink out of here whenever I want to with the risk of being in trouble or some shit like that."

"Jimmy, you got it better 'an most," Ethel said. "We could be—"

"Doing something with our lives!" Jimmy cut in. "_Making_ something of ourselves!"

"Jimmy, don't you realize how hard life would be outside these tents for us? Think of Pepper! Think of Meep! Meep was _killed_, Jimmy!" Ethel exclaimed.

The vivid memory came to Jimmy's mind like a crystal; clear as day, he remembered the day Meep, a dwarf who was a favorite among the carnies and audiences, was arrested for something he had done himself—slashing the throat of a police officer who tried to arrest Bette and Dot for the killing of their mother. While this event secured the conjoined twins in a family bond with the carnies, it also incited such extreme feelings of self-loathing and hate toward himself, for he had never killed anyone before. He united the carnies in dismembering the body, and soon after, the police began to get nosier and nosier—Jimmy, with the help of Eve and Paul, dug up the body parts, finding the badge of the cop in the process.

At the same time, Dell Toledo and his wife, three-breasted Desiree, had been hired and rising tensions began to form between him and Dell. He even took a beating outside the diner from Dell as punishment for treating all the carnies to lunch—poor Pepper never got her meatloaf. The next day, the police arrived at the freak show grounds with a search warrant. Jimmy, to try and get rid of Dell, put the badge in his trailer so he would get arrested; in a chilling turn of events, Dell in turn put it in Meep's chicken suit. Feeling remorseful, he drank himself into a stupor that night—Ethel had been worried sick about him, but it all stopped when Jimmy took a drunken tantrum and walked outside the great tent only to find the police dumping the wrapped body of Meep before his feet.

Jimmy frowned, the terrible memory sticking in his mind and playing over and over—a tear rolled down his cheek but he wiped it away and suppressed his emotions. Ethel, who found out afterwards of her son killing the cop, was deeply disappointed but swore herself to secrecy just like everyone else did. Meep was so loved by everyone, and the other memory of him being buried on Halloween played in his mind—Jimmy had given the eulogy.

"I miss that little buddy," he said sadly.

Then the door opened—it was Paul; oh, how peculiar he looked with his short, seal-like arms covered in tattoos galore.

"Elsa wants everyone in the big tent for rehearsal, mate," he said in his British accent, focusing on Jimmy and his mother; the young man with gelled, auburn-brown curls looked at him strangely.

"We weren't supposed to today. You got it all wrong," he answered.

"No, mate. She said for me to get everyone," Paul said.

"Well, we gotta go," Ethel told her son. "You heard 'im. Elsa'll have heads rollin' if we don't go."

Elsa's impromptu rehearsal had taken the carnies by surprise, but Britta did not complain once. Then again, she had not complained either way. It all began with Elsa rehearsing new material in her husky, off-kilter contralto. Afterwards, Desiree played the piano to accompany the voices of Bette and Dot, the conjoined twins—Dot had the stronger, more pleasant singing voice of the two, while Bette lent her voice as a backup to their Ella Fitzgerald number. After Paul, Jimmy, Amazon Eve with Ma Petit, Pepper with Salty, and Dell rehearsed their numbers with Elsa's critiquing, Britta's turn came up, and the moment she held out a bright red apple in her hands to levitate it, she tried concentrate but the German's harsh-sounding voice stopped her.

"_Halt! Halt!_ Stop!" she called out, waving her hand.

"Is…something wrong?" the Swede asked slowly.

"_Ja_, there is. You keep holding out juggling balls and apples, the audience will get bored of you!" Elsa exclaimed.

"Excuse me," Desiree cut in, looking back at her employer, "but I doubt anyone'll get bored of somethin' _she _does. She uses her _mind_, for God's sake."

"You are right, but Britta, _meine leibchen_," Elsa continued, looking at the golden pincurls falling around her shoulders. "You must have some other talent. Your ability is extraordinary enough, but maybe there is something_ else_ you are hiding, hm?"

"What?" Britta asked. "I…do not understand."

"Do you dance?" Elsa asked.

The young woman shook her head—"_nei_, I…not dance."

"Do you juggle?"

"Uh…"

That's when Jimmy intervened.

"Hey," he said, walking forward with his hands in his pockets, "what about singing?"

"Eh?"

"Singing," Jimmy repeated, looking up at Britta as though she were on a pedestal for only him to see. "You know, singing. What's your favorite song?"

"I…do not…know, I…cannot," Britta stammered, looking down as her lightly freckled cheeks became flushed. "I have no talent."

"Oh, c'mon," Jimmy smirked, looking up at her as he took a couple of steps closer. "That can't be all true. I've seen you lift stuff with your mind. Give it a try."

"I…do not….know English music," Britta replied nervously.

"So sing something else," Jimmy suggested with a chuckle, sitting down right next to Amazon Eve with Ma Petit in her lap. "Sing something you know. Anything. Sing it to _me_, Britta. Pretend no one else is here. Give it a shot."

He was very persuasive; beyond the shadow of any doubts she had about him. Britta took a moment to think, remembering songs she had known from her homeland. She moved closer to the microphone and looked at Elsa, who looked up at her with a stoic expression until she heard an unearthly soprano coming from the golden-haired young woman, the spellbinding tune begin amplified throughout the big top and enchanting everyone's ears:

_"När barnen mister mor ch far vort vill di då ta land…_

_Ja dom får be dja Gud om nåd och blien vandringsman…"_

Upon hearing the ethereal sound of Britta's voice, Elsa's jaw dropped with shock, not expecting even a single note in tune to escape her lips. Everyone from Pepper to Ma Petit, Dell to Ethel, and even Desiree were so star struck that they felt like they were under a spell; Desiree couldn't even play musical accompaniment on the piano. Jimmy's eyes widened, staring up at her delicate beauty as she continued to sing the sorrowful melody:

_"En vandrings man som går omkring får oft a lie da nöd…_

_Ja dom får gå till grannens bord och bedja om silt bröd.."_

Britta took a quiet breath after completing the task she had been influenced to perform (literally), and there was a silence. Elsa just stared up at her with her piercing, penetrating hazel eyes, adjusting her strawberry blonde curls as she heard loud clapping that draw her attention along with familiar cries that sounded like slurs—they came from Pepper, who stood up and laughed absent-mindedly and was joined by Desiree, Dell, Amazon Eve, Ma Petit and Paul, who all clapped and cheered at her spellbinding song.

"Hun, that was _beautiful_!" exclaimed Desiree, her golden, dark skin glowing from the hint of light that shined into the big top through the entrance. "I ain't never heard anythin' like that in my whole life!"

"Well, Britta, you've proven me wrong," Elsa said, standing up and catching her attention. "You are talented. I would think God is missing an _angel_."

"That was…" Jimmy said, stepping forward and smiling brightly with a giggle, a reddish blush coming to his cheeks as his heart raced, "_breathtaking_."

The two exchanged eye contact from a distance—Jimmy couldn't help but smile at her graceful beauty; from her pin-curled, shoulder-length blonde hair to the small freckles dotting her nose bridge lightly; from her tiny waist as the focal point of her willowy figure to her jewel-like peridot green eyes; from the natural beauty in her fair face to the simple, elegant way in which she was dressed, he couldn't help but be in awe. Being no stranger to a beautiful face, he knew that this one would top the list. _She's so beautiful_, he thought as he smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

_A month later…_

Dandy was walking around the center of town, the hustle and bustle doing nothing to settle his nerves. It was the holiday season, and it was still quite warm in Jupiter, but that didn't stop the usual suspects from going into stores and purchasing gifts and trinkets for their loved ones. He looked to his right and saw a poster in the window of Le Fleur, the boutique, and looked at the image of a happy clown staring right at him with heavily made-up eyes. The caption was as follows;

"_Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities_

_cordially invites you to_

_The New Year's Gala_!"

The advertisement was quite exaggerated and cliché, but he looked past the image of the happy clown and looked down at the information listed:

"_$10 Admission_

_Adults Only!_

_Open to the public._

_Begins at 6:00 PM sharp on December 31!_

_Dress your best and party with our performers!"_

Dandy's sinister mind worked itself in a frenzy—a thousand thoughts ran through his mind at a rapid rate. _That girl will be there_, he thought,_ free for the taking. I know I will have her_. He walked off into the crowds of holiday shoppers, hearing the bell wrung by Santa Claus for Salvation Army donations. As he walked, Dandy looked up and approached the park, seeing a medium-sized purple tent set up with someone coming out of it, smiling and laughing. Above the flap door was a plaster sign that read

"_Clairvoyant: Maggie Esmeralda_

_Crystal Ball Readings_

_Love, Money, Career, Luck_"

Dandy had always been skeptical, but she took out a ten dollar bill, looking at it as he entered the tent. He had so many questions in need of answers, and he had no one to turn to. When he entered the tent, he saw a young woman of about twenty sitting there with candles lit on the table where her clear, crystal ball sat on its pewter stand. She was pretty, but not gorgeous—on her lips was bright pink lipstick, and her eyeshadow was a strange shade of orange. On her styled, curly blond hair was a green hat to match her mint-colored sweater. He wore a simple brown skirt, nude stockings, and simple green shoes. She looked up at Dandy, intimidated by his creepy presence, and saw that he was about to cry.

"Welcome," she said kindly. "I am Maggie Esmeralda. I'm a fortune teller. I hold the answers to all of your questions." Dandy plopped down on the seat in front of her, nearly knocking over a candle in the process. He seemed quite angry, set on getting his revenge on the freak show that rejected him. A tear ran down his face as he looked into the eyes of the fortune teller, which were a soft brown color.

"I have many questions," he grunted. "I hope you can help me! I'm about to…explode."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, reaching to hold his hands. "I can sense that you have felt a great pain. However, I need some kind of compensation in order for me to fully access the visions the spirits give me to see."

"Name your price," he said desperately.

"Anything you have," Esmeralda said, holding out her hand.

Dandy took a breath and took out the other ten he had in his wallet, giving her the one he had already pulled out. She looked down at what was given to her, cocked an eyebrow up and put it away in a jeweled, silver box that had all the money she had conned out of the people she read for. Placing it under her chair, she stood up and waved her arms around in the air, feigning deep breaths. Deception was her strong suit—she was a con artist after all.

"What are you doing?" Dandy asked as she made the motions.

"Getting in tune with the spirits," she said. "I also need for you to release any thoughts and clear your mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, do it," she ordered.

Dandy tried his hardest to let go of any poisonous thoughts that may have hindered the accuracy of his reading. When Esmeralda sat, she placed her hands on the ball and began to "divine" his future. First, she began with his past.

"Wow," she said, looking into the crystal ball.

"What?" he asked calmly, looking into the crystal ball.

"Your past is…somewhat murky, but I can see a mother figure," she said. Dandy continued to listen, looking into the crystal as she continued to speak. "But…she is quite angry."

"Why?"

"Because her life was too short," she said slowly, thinking of what to say. "And someone has unjustly been put to jail…wait…" She looked a bit more and saw another person. "This woman…she was black…someone in domestic service…framed for her death. She didn't do it," Esmeralda continued. Dandy's eyes widened, thinking of how he snuck into his mother's room in his clown suit with a carving knife and stabbed her repeatedly. To avoid suspicions, he framed Dora, the black housemaid, and used her as a scapegoat. She was awaiting trial as they spoke, and Esmeralda continued.

"Now…your future…" She stared into the crystal ball and sighed. "I see a woman."

"A woman? Tell me more!" he begged excitedly, jumping a little in his seat.

"She is…quite young…new to town…" She stared into it even more. "Uh…hm…she has…hair of gold…and…" She glanced again. "piercing blue eyes. She is a victim…stuck inside a trap…physically…"

"Her name? Any? Can you see it? Do you know?" Dandy asked frantically, taking in every word she said.

"No…" She looked deeper into the crystal. "But someone is in your way." She looked into Dandy's strange blue eyes, which were full of hope and emotions unexplainable.

"Who?!" he asked. "Who?"

"He…travels a lot..." She gazed some more. "He also has…uh…grotesque…monstrous...uh…his hands…they're deformed…" She gasped and recited a little more loudly—she had known this person before. "He…he has a side job…pleasuring women…wait…" She glanced once more. "_Used_ to! He stopped…just for this woman…he wants to win her heart. In reality,_ you_ are the one for her. Not him!"

"Oh my god! Oh!" Dandy felt a rush of ecstasy through his body, jumping out of his seat with excitement while Esmeralda just watched his frantic behavior.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm overjoyed! I have all my answers! Thank you so much! This means so much!" Dandy exclaimed excitedly, leaning in to kiss her cheek before running off into the street like the sick lunatic he was.

Meanwhile, the freak show grounds were decorated for the Christmas season. A large fir, shipped down from Maine, had been set up right next to the stage in the great tent. Everyone took turns putting up fancy ornaments, gold-colored tinsel, silver garland, and lights in a rainbow of colors. Finally, the trimming of the tree ended when Amazon Eve lifted the petite Jyoti so she could place the star up on the tree—the woman, small in stature, smiled and clapped, as did everyone else. Pepper clapped the loudest and made sounds of delight, along with Salty, who stood right next to her. Britta, Elsa, Ethel, and Jimmy all stood together, while Dell and his wife Desiree stood on the other side to admire their work.

"It's gorgeous, sugar," Desiree said, posing suggestively.

"Lovely!" Bette said.

"Ugh," Dot groaned.

"_Snygg_," Britta muttered, her green eyes fixed on the tree.

Amongst the chatter of the carnies putting presents under the tree for Christmas Day, Elsa stood on the stage and tried to silence everyone. Britta's attention was caught first, and once everyone finished bringing different sized boxes to the tree, they looked up at Elsa and listened.

"After Christmas is our New Year's Gala. You will be partying with the whole town and will be interacting with the public," she declared.

"Adults only!" Dell said.

"Yes, it is only for adults. So no one can complain about their children being scarred for life," Elsa added. "But on Christmas morning, _please _make sure we aren't missing anyone before we open presents?"

"Yes," everyone said at their own pace.

"Well, this Saturday we have a special show for Christmas. We should be rehearsing some new material." Elsa looked over at Britta, approaching her slowly as everyone dispersed themselves to practice—Dell lifted weights, Desiree practiced a new dance routine involving ping pong balls, Jyoti practiced belly dancing, Ethel practiced a song and dance number, Eve and Paul were doing an act together with the acrobats, but Jimmy, who stood still, watched Britta and Elsa talking, his focus on the captivating Swede.

"Britta, you have another beautiful talent," the German woman said with pride. "As always, I will sing to open the show this weekend. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to sing a song of your own?"

"Me?"

"_Ja_," she said. "Besides, people like hearing songs no matter where they are from. That day doing laundry with us, you started to sing and…I could've sworn an angel was with us. You_ are_ an angel, though, the one who has brought salvation and hope to my freak show."

"Oh," Britta said, getting nervous.

"It doesn't have to be in English, _leiben_," she reminded her. "It can be in your own mother tongue."

"I…I am not certain," Britta told her. "I would much rather—"

"I insist," Elsa affirmed, looking down into her eyes persuasively.

"I cannot," the Swede replied.

"I really hope you will," Elsa said, trying to make her say yes.

"Alright," she said. "I will think on it."

Britta, feeling pressured and confused, left the great tent. Jimmy, who was watching her speak to Elsa the whole time, slinked out and followed her. He whistled and waved his arm in the air to get her attention—she turned around as the breeze blew through her blonde pin-curls.

"Hey!" he called out.

"Oh,_ hej_," she responded as he walked up to her. He looked down into her eyes, and he could immediately tell right off the bat that she felt a certain way.

"Are you ok?"

"Eh."

"What's the matter?" he asked, deep concern in his voice.

"Elsa wants me to sing," she answered shyly.

"That's great!" Jimmy exclaimed with a slight smile, but it faded once he saw Britta's unsmiling expression. "Uh…right?"

"Well…" She began, the breeze starting to pick up as she looked down. Jimmy moved a little closer, looking down at her until their eyes met. The sun shone in her eyes like a thousand more, and her freckles were barely noticeable—Jimmy's heart raced. He was so tempted to kiss her right then and there, but he didn't want to ruin anything between them. He sighed, looking down at her solemnly.

"Well?" he asked silently.

"I…I do not like being on a stage," Britta said.

"That's what we do, though. I don't like it either but…" Jimmy sighed, looking up at the sky. "I have to live somewhere. Well, you know, my mother and I."

Britta stood and listened to Jimmy, who became passionate about telling his real opinion of their living conditions to her. Due to her further knowledge in English, she could understand every word he said.

"You know, we could leave this place," he began, walking away from her and going apace. "My mom is all like, '_the world is no place for freaks like us_.' Well, we're not freaks! We're people, just like everyone else in this town." He looked down before making eye contact with the girl. "How they treat us like shit, it just ain't right. What I wouldn't give to have normal hands." He took her hands in his and looked down at them; Britta followed suit. "Just like this. But no…I was given the short end of the stick, and because of that I'm stuck in a place like this. I feel like a common criminal. This is like a prison.

"I used to get paid by lonely housewives just to use my 'flipper action' on them. I did it for close to a year, but when I woke up and realized what I had in front of me," he continued, holding out his hands toward Britta, "I stopped. They were using my shortcoming for their own selfish reasons. Sure, I _wanted_ to make money, but lookin' back, that's what it was. Their own selfishness. Not that I got paid very much anyways. That's no way to live. You have people afraid of you when you touch them, so what's the point?"

"But…" Britta began. "I am not afraid."

"You seemed that way when I saw your wrists for the first time," he contradicted. "It's like you didn't want my hands on you."

"That is not true," she said, her voice sounding sad. "If only you could understand."

"Then again, what do I know? I better mind my own damn business," Jimmy said, sounding cross. "I care too much. Especially…about newcomers like you."

"Me?"

"Yes," he said fiercely, gently wrapping his arms around her and looking into her eyes. He loved the way her body felt against his; she was so small and petite, and she smelled amazing, like fresh lavender picked from a fragrant field in summertime. Her willowy, thin arms wrapped around him as they embraced—Britta felt a new sense of trust and security in Jimmy, who stared down at her with a gentle gaze. Jimmy never wanted to let her go—instead, he put his arm around her shoulder and led her back to the great tent, where the rest of the carnies were rehearsing for the Christmas show.


	10. Chapter 10

The Christmas show put on by the performers that Saturday began at 6:00 sharp—while everyone was getting ready and warming up backstage, the seats in the audience became fuller by the minute as groups upon groups came in. The great tent, being heavily decorated with tinsel, garland, lights, fir sprigs, and even a large, trimmed tree settled on the outer left edge of the stage. The lights were on, and the tinsel sparkled as much as the garland did. Backstage, everyone was getting dressed in seasonal costumes—Dell dressed as Santa Claus, Desiree was in a provocative brown lingerie set and a headband with faux antlers that made her look like a reindeer, Pepper, Jyoti, Paul, Eve and Salty were dressed as elves in blue or green felt with faux leather belts and matching pointed hats. Jimmy and several other acts did not dress up, but he wore a dark green button-up shirt tucked into his blue jeans, a new pair which he had gotten especially for this occasion. Dot and Bette wore a burgundy velvet dress with a ruffle around the neckline and a red satin sash.

The most unique costume of the acts was Britta's—she _did_ agree to sing, despite her nervousness, but she wore a long, virgin white tunic-like gown with a red sash around her petite waist that extended down the length of the gown. Her hair was loose and wavy and topped by a crown wreath. She found a compact on one of the makeup tables Eve had used before her, and she used the applicator to apply a simple peachy eyeshadow and the blusher to apply pink rouge to her cheeks. Elsa's style and way of doing her makeup had been way too bold and flamboyant, so Britta learned a little more about applying her own makeup. She bit her lips so that they looked like they had lipstick on them, but she licked them to make them look glossy. She stood up from the makeup desk as soon as the audience began to cheer on the coming of Dell dressed as Santa.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he began, feigning a booming voice. "Merry Christmas! Welcome to Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities!"

The audience cheered and smiled up at the strongman dressed as Santa Claus; however, backstage it became a laughing matter. Jimmy laughed silently at how ridiculous he looked and sounded onstage, his dimply, charming smile catching the other acts' attention. Britta looked over at him and shook her head, smiling slightly.

"Featuring my elves!" Pepper, Salty, Jyoti, and Eve were illuminated by a spotlight, and upon seeing the sight, everyone in the audience laughed hysterically, especially since the towering Eve had no business being in an elf costume. Pepper and Salty waved their hands at the massive crowd, and Paul flapped his short arms to shock everyone and get them to stop laughing.

"But…! To open our show," Dell said, peering into the audience. "A peek into the long, dark winters of Northern Europe with a traditional music-and-flight number by the one! The only! Britta Nordlund!"

Even went to the piano and began to play a jingle as the curtain opened to the light of a candle being held and looked into by Britta's intense verdant gaze. The spotlight dimmed slightly to give a spiritual, serious feel—the audience was struck silent as Britta hesitated to hit the first note of _Sankta Lucia_:

"_Natten går tunga fjät  
rund gård och stuva;  
kring jord, som sol förlät,  
skuggorna ruva.  
Då i vårt mörka hus,  
stiger med tända ljus,_  
_Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia_."

The audience was in awe, but the spotlight brightened as she moved on to the next verse of the song, holding out the lit white candle and focusing on it so it could levitate like it was supposed to. As she went further into the song, she put her hands together as if in prayer as it floated around her personal space. Jimmy watched the sight from backstage and was amazed at her abilities—it was already enough that she looked very beautiful in a traditional Swedish holiday costume, but levitating a candle without it falling and setting things on fire was truly a miracle. The crowd lost their awe when Britta levitated herself while singing the final verse. She went higher and higher as she sang each line and each note in a perfect soprano, making the audience cry of joy:

"_Mörkret ska flykta snart  
ur jordens dalar  
så hon ett underbart  
ord till oss talar.  
Dagen ska åter ny  
stiga ur rosig sky  
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia_"

When the number was over, the entire crowd starting from the front of the audience stood and applauded her as she focused on getting herself down safely and holding the candle that had been floating since she made it do so. Once she was back on her feet, she bowed her head gracefully and smiled gently, her lips closed as she conveyed her gratitude for them listening to her and not trying to throw things like the first time she had been on stage. Elsa, who had been watching from backstage, looked at the Swede in deep envy, but not resentment. _Why can't I get applauded like that_, she thought,_ I am a star_. She grinned and bore it as the curtain closed, with Britta going backstage to meet the others. Elsa smiled at her and held her arms out for a hug, which was firm and tight.

"_Wunderbar_, my angel," she said with a tear in her eye both from sadness and joy. "You were _wunderbar_."

"Now, it is your time to be _wunderbar_," Britta replied with a slight smile. Elsa, dressed in a satin red gown, white feather boa and her usual heavy makeup, walked on the threshold of the stage and the wing as Dell called her out.

"And now, the matron of a dying era! Please welcome the chanteuse of pre-war Berlin, Elsa Mars!" he declared, clapping being heard from the audience. She walked out on the stage with Paul on drums, Eve on the piano, and another act on bass cello—the crowd looked up at her as the curtains opened and music began to play, her husky voice taking over the song:

"Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,  
In the lane, snow is glistening  
A beautiful sight,  
We're happy tonight,  
Walking in a winter wonderland…"

Unlike Britta's impeccable soprano, Elsa's husky contralto seemed totally out of it as she sang. The audience, much to her dismay, all watched her and didn't clap along or do anything to ensure Elsa that they were excited about her being there. Plus, the song made no sense because in Jupiter, it never snowed:

"_In the meadow we can build a snowman,  
Then pretend that he's a circus clown  
We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman,  
Until the other kiddies knock him down_…"

When the song was only two lines away from being finished, the audience rushed Elsa off the stage by clapping and fake applauding—flattered for the wrong reason, she smiled and finished the song, bowing the audience. Dell kept calling up acts to perform their numbers—Paul and Eve performed an act with some acrobats on suspended silver rings all decked out in tinsel, Jimmy cracked some jokes while making gestures with his hands, Pepper and Salty simply amused the crowd by standing there talking nonsensewith their slurred speech and dancing to the _Chicken Dance_ and other pieces. Desiree performed a half-assed striptease to a slow, jazzy version of _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer _complete with tasseled pasties on her three nipples—the men in the audience, married or single, whistled and made cat calls to their heart's content; however, it was when she gave a show of her ding-a-ling that people really got scared.

"Ew!" they all called out.

"Gross! She's a man!" an older woman exclaimed.

All of the acts had finished by 9:30 that evening, and afterwards, there was the usual meet-and-greet of the performers. By this time, words had gotten around to all of the town's women who had been serviced by Jimmy, and there were not many people flocking around him except to get autographs or photos for the newspaper. Pepper and Salty continued to make people laugh as they walked around and smiled with their bucked teeth. Britta and Desiree were both the most popular for that evening; men surrounded Desiree, taking away from the attention the Swede would have gotten for her unique performance. Dell didn't like this, but he didn't want to get his temper riled with the heat of the moment. More pictures were taken for the town newspaper, especially of Britta holding her Saint Lucia candle and her ethereal Nordic beauty topped with the crown wreath she had worn onstage. Reporters came to her asking questions, the same ones over and over again; in the meantime, Jimmy had his eyes on Britta, who looked a bit intimidated although by now, she had been swarmed after every show for autographs, interviews, photos, and general questions about her life.

"What part of Scandinavia are you from?" one asked, holding a pen and paper.

"What is winter like up North?"

"Are you currently single?"

"The _Jupiter Times_ would like to interview you. When are you free?"

Shaking his head, Jimmy intervened and held his deformed hands out to prevent them from coming any closer to Britta. He was right in front of her like a shield protecting something precious.

"Please, guys! Leave her alone," he commanded assertively.

"We need to know these things!" a reporter stated. "She's the latest sensation!"

"So ain't I. Ain't I in this show, too?" Jimmy asked sarcastically. "You can interview _me _anytime."

"We want to interview Britta Nordlund! Not you, Lobster Boy!" another reporter sneered.

"Hey!" Jimmy lunged at the person who said that, and felt like he was beginning to lose his temper. "Stop it! That's enough! Get away from her! I mean it!"

Britta, nervous and bewildered by the commotion, proceeded to run out of the great tent, making her way through the entrance. Before she could leave, a few reporters clocked the entrance; Dell, seeing them try to snap unflattering photos of Britta, walked over toward them and shouted.

"HEY! Away from the entrance unless you're gonna leave!" he said, waving his fists in the air. Knowing he was capable of breaking them as easily as toothpicks, they fled the freak show and approached their cars, driving away from the grounds. Britta then took the opportunity to leave the great tent and walk down the small avenue of tents, trailers and caravans. She heard rapid footsteps in the grass behind her, and when she looked back, she noticed it was Jimmy.

"Hey, you can't be out alone. What if someone snatches you up?" he asked hypothetically with a cynical tone in his voice. When he caught up to her, Britta replied with her accent thick but clear.

"Why would they do that?" she asked.

"C'mon, you didn't see them back there? They're crazy about you! All kudos to you, though, 'cause I wouldn't want _that_ much attention," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder lightly and leading her toward his trailer. Britta, looking at him as he paced forward with her, lifted his arm off her—Jimmy stopped just before opening the door.

"What?" he asked in frustration.

"I…do not know if…I should," she admitted shyly, turning red.

"Really?" he asked with disbelief as he walked up to her and stared right down into her eyes. "We're friends, remember? Besides, if I wanted to do anything to you, I would have said it, you would've had to want it, too."

Britta stood there for a moment, staring at him blankly with a horrified look in her verdant eyes. He stared back at her, and realizing that what he said and how he said it was likely offensive, he rubbed his forehead roughly and opened the door, holding out his hand. She reluctantly took it and he led her into his small trailer, which was not entirely unkempt but it could've used some spring cleaning. There was a used blue over-shirt from two days ago thrown on the sofa, a small radio, mini kitchen with one counter, a stove and a fridge, and down the trailer was his large bed and the door to a bathroom complete with a bathtub. Suspended from the ceiling was a speed bag for when he was angry and needed to take it out on something or when he simply worked out. Jimmy reached and turned on the light but dimmed it slightly so that Britta could place her candle on the small table near the sofa.

"Sit down," he said.

Doing so, Britta looked up at him curiously, watching him take off his green button-up t-shirt and toss it aside to show his muscular body and broad, manly shoulder in his white wifebeater tank top. He opened the small cupboard and took out a glass bottle of liquor and two shot glasses, pouring an even amount in each before handing a glass to Britta, who took it and smelled it. It nauseated her.

"What is this stuff?" she asked.

"It's fine, drink it," Jimmy replied, sitting next to the Swede on his sofa as he took the whole shot down in one gulp, making a sour face afterwards. Remembering how bad of an alcoholic her foster father had been and the faces he made after gulping down shots in front of her young self, she placed the glass on the table and looked down, yawning.

"What?" he asked.

"Ja?"

"No, I meant to ask you what was wrong," Jimmy asked, looking at her. "If you don't want it, I'll drink it up."

"Go," she muttered. "I do not drink like this."

"Like what?" he asked, taking half her shot down his gullet.

"Well, I…I never drank…I mean, I was never given anything to drink like this," she explained briefly. Jimmy looked at her with a serious expression.

"Poor thing, you ain't never had a drink in your life," he joked—but Britta was not joking. After he gulped down the rest of her shot, he fanned himself with his deformed hand and looked at her.

"It is…" She sighed. "not what I would want to do. I have seen way too much drinking in my life to do it for myself."

"Oh."

Jimmy remembered that she had mentioned an alcoholic foster father before. Feeling embarrassed, he leaned back on the couch and looked at her, still dressed in her traditional Swedish Saint Lucia costume from the show. He watched as she took off the green wreath crown from her head, taking a hair ribbon she had hidden in it for tying it back after the show. Jimmy sighed and looked at her; he wanted to learn her deepest secrets so that he may protect her and guard over her for the remainder of his life, or at least for a time. He had been so concerned for Britta, looking out for her whenever he could because ever since seeing the deep scars inflicted on her wrists, he began to really wonder about the deeper pain she harbored within her that her eyes could not fully express. Every gaze he made into her eyes, he saw the pain as yet unexplained over and over again.

"Britta?" She glanced over at him—she looked rather sad, but didn't talk.

"I know I said I should mind my own business, but…" He took a breath before looking into her eyes; she paid full attention to him. "What happened to you? Why are you so shy? And…" He looked down, licking and biting his upper lip nervously. "Those scars…must have been so painful when they got there…" Britta felt tears in her eyes, and her voice cracked. No one had ever cared about her on this level before—she felt her heart breaking inside when the brutal memories of her foster family, her parent's death, and something even worse than being sent to Konradsberg played like a projector in a film hall. She closed her eyes, a single tear dropping as she remembered her excruciating pain when she took the kitchen knife to her wrists.

"They were," she muttered, nodding.

"Yeah?" Jimmy listened attentively to anything else she had to say. Britta sighed.

"This…is…well…" She shook her head, beginning to cry; Jimmy took her in his arms and held her close, allowing his tank top to be soaked by her salty, warm tears. His left, deformed hand ran over her head to console her.

"This is very hard to me to tell people," she cried. "A lot of…bad…bad things…happened to me in Sweden." She used the long sleeve of her gown to wipe her eyes, sniffling. "I may have…brought my…language and…" She looked at her costume. "traditions here…but…there were some things I wanted to leave behind and never go back to see them again." Jimmy sighed, staying silent so he could listen to her; normally her heavy accent was clear enough to understand, but when she was sobbing and crying in a moment like that, he had to try and listen to make out what she was saying.

"Elsa…the whole ride on the ship here, she asked me about myself. I could not…fully answer…her questions," she continued. "She was trying to…." She thought of a proper word in English. "She was trying to make me…open up to her…and tell her what I am about to tell you now."

"I'm listening, Britta," he said, trying to calm her down as he held her in his strong arms. Britta sighed, looking down; the tears seemed to stop.

"I…do not know…I do not know how to say it in English," she said. "But…this is what happened to me…."


	11. Chapter 11

_NOTE: This is written differently than the mainstream chapters up until this point—this is a __**flashback**__. Some content may be triggering, graphic, or sensitive to some readers. Discretion advised!_

It had been the third day being locked down in the Kallstrom's cellar, and because winters in northern Sweden were so frigid, Britta had huddled into herself on the freezing, cement floor and shivered. Intense pangs of hunger stabbed her stomach like daggers, as she hadn't been given food since she was locked down there, and the cold was so intense that she struggled to breathe. Sure, she had been wearing a plain sweater and her usual skirt, knee-high socks and Mary Jane shoes, but Sweden's harsh winters up in the northern part were too much for anyone to handle, let alone survive in a cold cellar with. _Britta's memory blanked out, before explaining more of what her life was like when it was actually worth living._

Her biological parents had died when she was only four—Hans, a farmer from the small town of Visby on the Swedish island of Gotland, had been a strong-willed individual who was generous with all he had. Her mother, Frida, was a seamstress who was kind-hearted and family-oriented, having planned to have another baby before she and her husband perished in the fire that destroyed their farm and home. The loving couple both loved and cherished their daughter, but only her mother knew of her abilities.

The fire that destroyed the home, livestock and land of the Nordlund family, including Britta's parents, devastated the entire town. The girl had blamed herself and her power for so many years, thinking she had caused their death; yet the cause of the fire was unknown. They were such a loving family, and when the police came to take Britta to the orphanage, people in town were willing to take her in and adopt her—the authorities did not listen, as they were not blood relatives and they simply did not want Britta being handled by some stranger. The orphanage was her home for a year, and during that time, children taunted and teased her for being different than the rest. It was not like they were any special themselves—they were just orphans with broken dreams of being adopted by a loving family. Some never were, and remained there until adulthood.

Britta felt fortunate to be adopted by the Kallstrom family, who had lived in the northernmost part of Sweden in a town called Kiruna; it was a small town just north of the Arctic Circle and with its roots deeply planted into the history of the indigenous Sami people. At first, they did not pay enough attention to her like she was used to by the parents she had lost. They fed her, clothed her, gave her a room, but were emotionally distant and didn't bother bonding with her. The treatment of her began to worsen, especially when she tried to practice levitating the Bible that had been resting on a small table in the living room. Her focus was perfect, and she successfully lifted it from the table, even opening it to turn the pages—little did she know that Olaf, her foster father, had witnessed her doing so and was horrified.

"Sweet Mother of God!" he exclaimed in fear. "MARTA!"

The girl, then six, had been frightened enough to make her lose focus, the Bible dropping on the floor and closing to its front cover. She was shaking nervously as the man charged her, taking the holy book and beginning to hit her repeatedly with it. Each thud, smack, and pound made the girl scream out in pain.

"Ow! Please! I'm sorry!" she shouted and cried out. Marta, who watched her husband beating the girl, just stood by and watched, a sign of obedience and allegiance to her husband.

"Using the Devil's power in our household?! How dare you! Damn you, child, and your demonic powers!" Olaf shouted harshly, not stopping until her upper arms, chest, and eye were bruised into black and blue and the girl was sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe or think straight. Britta had remembered being scarred with the memory and image of Olaf pointing his finger down at her demeaningly and hissing the following:

"We are taking you to church tomorrow. I hope the priest can pardon your sins, you little witch!" That's when he chucked the Bible down near her head, nearly hitting her.

That was only the beginning of the abuse she had taken and gotten used to from Olaf and Marta, and all because she was different. She had been blamed for things she never did, beaten for no reason, locked in her room for days on end without food, and not allowed to go out except to go to school or church. As time progressed, Britta had endured more extreme forms of abuse from both her foster parents and their son, Lars. Starting at the age of eleven, Marta and Olaf began locking her in closets or in the cellar in the same fashion they had done before when they locked her in her bedroom. Olaf, who had been a brutal alcoholic for as long as the girl could remember, was the one who administered most of her daily beatings or harsh verbal abuse. Marta, a thin-lipped, cruel woman who was on the same religious level as her husband, was mean to her because she was under the impression that God was encouraging her to do so due to her "evil" powers.

Britta had been so used to it, and felt like she was to blame for everything. How would life have been in the Kallstrom household if she didn't lift the Bible from the table that fateful night? Did she cause the fire that took the lives of her parents when it had no known cause to begin with? Why had Lars, her foster brother, been keeping himself away from her for so long? Well, that last question would be answered when she was aged thirteen, sleeping soundly in her bed in the middle of the night.

Lars had been a very intimidating man of twenty-four, his height a staggering six foot five and his body build and strength gave him an even more frightening aura. He had platinum blonde hair cut close to his head, and his eyes were as icy as his stone cold heart. They radiated a pale, blue-gray color, which frightened even his mother when their eyes met. Britta had always known there was something wrong with him mentally, but he seemed so cunning, emotionless, and ruthless—he was far from being mentally retarded or anything like that. He was simply deviant, and he knew exactly why he was standing in the open doorway of Britta's plain bedroom.

He walked in slowly, making sure to stay quiet as he closed the door securely and tiptoed to where he could see her sleeping face best. At age thirteen, Britta had begun to blossom like a rose in summer, and her beauty began to take the place of the adorable, innocent daughter of the Visby farmer. Her golden blonde hair was fanned out around her head on the pillow, and her eyes were gracefully closed. Her mouth was small, but with full lips that could give a man fantasies. Her lithe, slender body was underneath her thin comforter, which he pulled down slowly as she slept. Whenever he saw her stirring, he stopped before continuing until it was all the way down to her delicate bare feet. Lars then proceeded to reach into his pants and take out his member, beginning to stroke it and moan quietly causing a sleepy-eyed Britta to wake up from her sleep—once she saw the intimidating, large silhouette of her foster brother, she let out aq scream that was cut off by him smacking her across the face. Groaning in pain, she wiped the side of her face in case there was any blood, but then her vision readjusted to see Lars masturbating as he looked at her.

"W…What are you doing?" she asked, looking at him with such fright she couldn't contain herself. She pulled the comforter back over herself in case something bad were to happen to her.

"Just admiring you," he said, a deviant smile across his lips as he stroked faster, making himself even harder. "And so isn't my little friend here. He wants to meet you."

"What?" Britta cried.

"He wants to meet you," he said, stroking faster as he concentrated on the tip.

"_No_!"

"Yes.

"No! You can't!" She knew exactly what he was trying to do, and would do anything to defend her petite self from this gigantic monster who was her foster brother.

Before she could protest anymore, Lars pulled the comforter off with all his might and crawled on top of the screaming girl. Placing his large hand over her small mouth, she continued to scream and even started crying. She couldn't breathe because his muscular bulk made up a huge amount of his weight, making her feel like he was crushing her chest just trying to have his way with her. She struggled underneath him but it was to no avail; her thrashing became more violent as he tore off her underpants to expose her virgin girlhood.

"No!" she yelled. "_Help_!"

His large, calloused hands abruptly grabbed her throat, squeezing her windpipe until she was gasping for air more than crying for help. She felt dizzy, disoriented, and very frightened of the large man being on top of her, getting ready to shove himself inside her. He leaned in, his breath a dreadful smell, whispering to the girl harshly and threateningly.

"We can do this the easy way or the_ hard_ way." He gave her throat a tighter squeeze, making her heart pump faster to get blood to her brain before he loosened his grip. "I don't think you want the hard way."

Britta stopped crying—who knows what the "hard way" consisted of if she proceeded to resist? Knowing his size and stature, he probably could have killed her right then and there. Loosening his grip on her small, thin neck but still with a grip on it, he lifted up the skirt of her nightgown and forced his hard length into her as a sharp angle. The pain was excruciating, and tears fell from Britta's eyes as he thrusted even faster and harder into her virgin girlhood. He was dreadfully deep, and her virgin blood covered his member as he pumped faster.

This was like a brutal nightmare of the most frightening kind. She closed her eyes and cried heavily, but each time she made even a groan of pain or a whimper, Lars gripped her neck tighter to keep her quiet despite that the sound of her choking throat filled the room. Lars powerful thrusting became more and more painful for the girl as he came closer to his climax. Once he felt the urge to cum, he pulled out and jacked himself off all over Britta's abdomen, covering it with droplets of his semen. He let go of his adopted sister's neck, allowing her to finally gasp for a full breath of air and regain some consciousness as she breathed heavily and sobbed to oblivion.

"Sweet dreams!" he whispered cheerfully before exiting the room. Britta could not believe what had just happened. A very important part of her had been ripped away, her innocence lost; it was only the beginning of a series of assaults made on her by Lars, who always came up with something to make her cries, shouts and whimpers inaudible as he raped her.

By the time the girl was fifteen years of age, Lars had entered her at least four different times, including the time that left her pregnant—it had been the last of Lars. She had only been so young, and too young to have a child of her own in such a harsh environment she had grown used to over the course of her childhood. In the three weeks after Lars' final assault on Britta, she had spiked a high fever and was throwing up any food that she had eaten, not that it was very much to nourish a growing baby anyway. Knowing something was terribly wrong and aware that her womb had been forced to take Lars' seed, she snuck over to the town physician afterschool one day and got herself checked out and tested. It was within an hour that she discovered the shocking news.

"You're with child," the doctor had said.

"_What_?!" Britta asked, her voice cracking as she buried her face in her hands.

"Yes, you are pregnant," he repeated.

"No, please say it isn't so," she said. "_Please_?"

"It's the truth," he told her.

Her life was over—she was pregnant with a bastard child that came from a non-consensual, seemingly incestuous union. That afternoon, immediately after coming home, she charged into the kitchen and took the sharpest knife she could find before locking herself in the place she hated most—the cold cellar. She hid underneath the empty stairwell, rolled up the sleeve of her thick sweater and took the knife to her left wrist, applying a lot of pressure as the blade sliced across veins and tissue. It was excruciating, but she knew she had to die in order to find happiness at last. With her wrist bleeding uncontrollably, she took the knife in that hand and sliced open the other one in the same fashion, if not deeper, than the other.

"Father, please forgive me," she muttered, looking up and sobbing as she let her wrists bleed. Then she looked down at her abdomen, which hadn't even begun to fully extend yet. "As for you..." She couldn't even talk, she cried so much. "You shouldn't even be _in_ me!"

Her cries from the agony of her slit wrists attracted the attention of Marta, who was folding laundry upstairs when she heard the ruckus downstairs. Once Britta heard the creaking of the steps, she looked down at the cold, hard cement floor and saw a few scattered puddles of blood leading to the empty stairwell—it was a sobbing, tired-with-life Britta sitting there with blood-stained clothes and deeply slit wrists.

"Oh my…" She looked at her with horror, looking away as Britta cried out—now, she had second thoughts about dying a successful suicide. This was not working, because it was just slow and terribly painful.

"HELP ME!" she called out, the pain from the slices driving her mad. "HELP ME! PLEASE!"

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," Marta replied, quoting the Bible and taking her crucifix pendant out from under her shirt to hold it out outward her as if she were a demonic entity.

"No! NO! PLEASE! I'M NOT EVIL! I CAN'T HELP IT!" she called out, feeling her heart shatter in a million pieces once again as Marta attempted to leave her there to die of slow exsanguination or untreated infection to her wounds. Marta had a chilling, cruel response, no surprise there.

"You're going to Stockholm. We've had it with you," she sneered before going back upstairs to call the distant city to ask about asylums or mental hospitals. Being in a lot of pain, her foster mother's domineering behavior was the last thing Britta wanted to encounter.

She was sent to Konradsberg, a prominent Stockholm psychiatric hospital, the following day. She was transported via train and truck to the capital, and the journey took at least a full 24 hours. On the way, a nurse dressed and bandaged her wounds, replacing the washcloths that had been tied to them. Britta was also put in a straight jacket in the event she lashed out at anyone. She wasn't psychotic—she was troubled and deeply depressed, unhappy with life as she knew it. She had still been pregnant with Lars' child, and when they made it to Stockholm, the doctors were so focused on getting her confined to a room that they didn't care to perform a check-up on her other than a psychiatric evaluation. However, a month later, she was checked out by a physician in the hospital and told she was two months pregnant, a bump having shown on her lower abdomen.

"She can't have this baby," the doctor told his nurse. "An abortion must be performed."

"But sir—"

"She has no choice, and honestly, she thinks she can make things fly, which is weird as it is. Imagine a child growing up with a delusional mother. Picture the baby growing up thinking itcan do the same things," the doctor said, making a point. "Plus, this is a case of rape. The girl is very traumatized by this pregnancy."

Britta was taken to a surgery room on the first floor of the hospital, and was made to undress from the waist down and put her feet in stirrups. A nurse was by her side, holding her hand and trying to calm her down. She made sure that she was careful of her wrists, as the wounds were still healing and had been stitched up and dressed properly in bandages and antibiotics to avoid infections. Britta was very nervous, but she felt good knowing that the bastard child would be taken out of her piece by piece.

"You're going to be put to sleep, alright? Are you nervous?" the nurse asked, her soft voice calming the girl down.

"A little," she said. "I never wanted to be pregnant, or to be someone's bitch. Especially someone who was a part of my family. But they never really were a family to me anyways."

"I understand," the nurse replied as the anesthesiologist prepared the drugs necessary to put Britta to sleep. He got a mask and attached it to the pipe carrying the drugs in a vapor form. He looked down at the girl and sighed as he placed the mask over her mouth and nose.

"Breath in deeply," the nurse said.

Within thirty seconds, the girl was knocked out cold and the surgeon began the abortion. Each step was tedious, as one wrong move could have rendered her infertile for a possible future, wanted child. Once he dilated the cervix, he pushed scissor-like calipers through the tear the fetus' developing limbs from its body, pulling out each piece and putting them in a disposable round dish. Then he moved on to crush and tear the torso before finally getting to the head, pulling out of Britta before taking a suction tube to such out the placenta or any amniotic fluids. The surgery took a good hour and a half, and after being wheeled back into her room, since there was no recovery wing, Britta opened her eyes sluggishly and felt a sharp, unpleasant pain shooting through her abdomen. Feeling tears flooding her verdant, jaded eyes, she gripped her lower stomach and felt as the pain darted through her like a killer's knife. The same nurse who had observed the procedure had been sitting next to her bedside, which Britta caught out of the corner of her eyes, blurry from the excessive tears. She reached over and held the girl's hand, looking down at her sadly.

"Shh," she said. "It's alright."

"Is it out? It really hurts!" Britta exclaimed through her sobbing. The nurse nodded and looked at the patient tenderly.

"You are alright now," she said, gently placing her hand on the girl's abdomen, scarred inside from her intensified traumatic experiences. Britta wept and cried in pain, and the nurse used her other, cooler hand to place on her forehead.

"Shh," she said. "It's alright. It's out of you now. You can get better."

"Nurse!" she called out, trying to brace the pain within as she grabbed the nurse's arm and looked up into her eyes—she could tell she was afraid, but Britta's intense gaze bore holes right through the woman as she spoke.

"Nothing is wrong with me." Britta's voice hissed like a snake, the venom coming from the fangs of her temper. "I may have tried to kill myself, but I have _nothing_ wrong with me. I am_ not_ crazy."

"That's what they all say," the nurse said, looking out the open door to call out for a doctor as the patient's grip on her arm became heavier and tighter. "Doctor!"

"I'm serious, nurse. I said I can make things fly; well, I can," she continued frantically, trying to get her to listen even though the nurse looked at her as though she had seven heads. "After my wrists are all healed, please release me! I don't belong here!_ Please!_ Send me back to Gotland! Not to Kiruna! Not back to those devils of people! They were cruel to me. Their son violated me!"

"Stop talking nonsense, please!" the nurse begged, looking out toward the open doctor again. "Doctor! Someone!"

A psychiatrist, one with a face she could never forget, came into the room—he had bushy gray eyebrows, brown eyes, and wore a lab coat as white as his receding hairline. Britta looked up at him and sighed, feeling her nerves rattle enough to make her shake. The doctor looked right into her eyes from a distance, their intense green color too hard to not notice—he had been the one to give her a psychiatric evaluation only to deem her "delusional"; in his mind, no one had mental powers. They didn't exist, and were all a part of Britta's imagination. She knew for a fact it was quite the contrary.

"Are you causing trouble again?" the doctor asked. Britta shook her head, her gaze piercing up at him.

"No," she replied. "I don't belong here. I know that for a fact."

"Ms. Nordlund, you cut your wrists and tried to kill yourself. That's_ not_ normal behavior," the doctor replied, trying to maintain calm. "You also think you have powers. You don't. It's all in your head."

"It's not in my head!" she screamed, focusing her anger on the open door of her hospital room and slamming it shut. The doctor and nurse both jumped and were startled, looking back at it—the doctor shrugged and went to try and open it back up again.

"Do you remember wind being in the forecast?" he asked the nurse. As she shrugged, the young patient grew impatient and even angrier.

"That wasn't the wind, that was _me_," Britta sneered. "Get me out of here!"

"If you act out of line again, you'll be next in the lobotomy room," the doctor hissed threateningly, looking down at her menacingly; she was slightly intimidated and looked up at him. "Understood?"

For a moment, Britta thought that her last stop of cruel treatment would come to pass after leaving the Kallstrom household, yet it seemed to be endless. During the three years at Konradsberg, she had been once again ostracized because of the abilities she had. She knew of her power and knew that nothing she had performed with her mind was a figment of her imagination. However, the threat of a lobotomy or some other barbaric procedure instilled a foreign fear in her heart, something she had never felt fear toward before. The institution was very much like a prison; the patients were confined to their rooms for a total of eighteen hours per day, the remaining six hours being set aside for recreation, showering, exercise, and if a patient needed to talk to a doctor, they could. Schizophrenics made up a large portion of the hospital's population, but there were other patients with disabilities and illnesses including the delusional, depression, personality disorders, mental retardation, and there were even a few pedophiles, sexual deviants and murders among the patients who had been serving sentences for crimes they committed. Due to confidentiality, their identities were not revealed, which brought Britta both relief and anxiety—being ignorant to who they were made her forget about them, but at the same time, the things they were said to have done frightened her deeply. Luckily, they were kept on the highest story—no one went up there.

Britta rarely exercised her powers when in front of other patients during free hours, but for the majority of her non-confinement hours, she read and drew sketches on an easel brought to her room to stay in there. On Sundays, she read the Bible, well, at least until it began reminding her of the Kallstroms and how they used their faith to ostracize the girl and her powers. Her real parents had been good Christians, and this thought prompted her to skip any pages that had verses or proverbs condemning certain things in favor of more positive scripture. Aside from this, she had used her powers to control the pencil she had used to draw with, sketching realistic, detailed drawings of different objects such as her beautifully delicate, white, feminine hands. Nothing she drew was in color, yet the pencil shaded in everything perfectly while she levitated it each drawing session. She even drew realistic, photo-like views of the world as seen outside her window. She had sketched the moon and all of its craters and dry, slate seas; she had depicted whatever images she recalled of her early life in Visby—a farm had been her last drawing when Elsa came to save her from her hell.


	12. Chapter 12

Jimmy was speechless and in shock at everything Britta had tried to tell him about her horrid, troubled past. His face was expressionless, and he had no words for the first time in his life. He could never bring himself to judge her, of all people, for having an abortion after such a brutal ordeal with her sexually deviant and mentally unstable foster brother. Even just hearing about how she had spent three years in a mental institution and what she had gone through there ripped at his heartstrings. He slowly reached to take her hand after she covered her sobbing face to hide the pain she had let out. She felt a huge burden lifted off her shoulders, as Jimmy was the first non-medical person she had shared her ordeal with. She trusted him enough now to tell him, and she did despite fear in doing so. Jimmy, still holding her beautiful, white, feminine hand in his disfigured one, caressed it gently as he looked down at her somberly.

"Oh my god," he muttered in disbelief. He shook his head, deep sympathy filling his fiery heart. It almost brought a tear to his eye, but he hid it well enough to look at Britta's red, puffy face without crying himself. She had been through more in her short life than what most other adults would in a lifetime. Without saying any more words, he held her close to him and sighed, rubbing her head gently as she continued to cry.

"Let it out, it's ok," he said, completely understanding why she felt the way she did. His deep voice turned into a whisper. "I'm here. I will not leave."

Britta struggled to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down, loosening her arms that were around Jimmy's muscular frame. However, he did not want to let her go, let alone go out of his sight, ever again. Staying just like this with the Swede made him so happy knowing that his protective nature was now going to be for not only the other carnies, but for her most of all. His strong arms wrapped around her delicate, willowy body as she tried to calm down from her heavy emotional response to things that had happened to her. She sighed softly.

"I remember I was…in a lot of…pain when they took the baby out," she told him slowly, her accented voice cracking. "It was not my…choice, but…at the same time, I did not want to be pregnant. I was so young."

"I know," he said with compassion, cupping her face in his hands and looking into her eyes, seeing a totally different, liberated woman in their verdant gleams. "You are _very_ strong, Britta."

"I am…only strong as…what I can be," she said. "I have lived…well, survived…such a…long, sad life."

"This is just the beginning," he told her. "You are here, now, and…I…I will…always protect you and be there for you when you need it most. Do you feel better now that you told me this?"

_Of course_, she thought, _I trust you_. She didn't mouth a word—her eyes said it all. Jimmy felt her soft, feminine jawline in his hands and loved what he was feeling. He let his thumbs caress both cheeks softly as he leaned in a little more. He was so tempted to kiss her lovingly and show her everything was alright, but he didn't—he stared right into her eyes, admiring the woman he had now known and understood much better. She was free now, in almost every sense of the word. Birtta glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall above the stove next to the smoke detector—it was almost 1 AM, and she stood up, looking down at Jimmy.

"I…must go," she said. "It is quite late."

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asked.

"Well…" He waited for an answer, and he stared up into her lovely green eyes. "I need to…spend the night alone."

"I wish you didn't feel the need to, but I understand," he said, standing up and walking her toward the door of his trailer to open it for her. She walked out and down toward the dirt road, looking back at him and smiling sadly. Jimmy looked back, wishing she didn't have to go. He watched her carefully as she made her way down to Ethel's caravan. Seeing her step up on the front steps toward the door, she turned again to look at him form the distance, and he waved to her.

"Good night!" he called out.

"And to you," she said, opening the door carefully so Ethel would not be awoken. Changing out of her costume, she dressed in the large nightgown and collapsed on the lounge sofa, falling asleep in an instant.

Christmas morning came only a few days later, and for the carnies, it was much like the typical family affair. Obeying Elsa's directions, everyone met in the great tent without a single person missing and began opening presents when she declared it appropriate to do so. The sounds of crinkling paper and thuds of box lids filled the echoes of the great tent, and Pepper's sounds of delight made everyone happy. The microcephalic woman sat down with Salty and opened a present, a box that had a jigsaw puzzle inside. Taking it out, she smiled happily and shook the box full of the puzzle pieces that were supposed to form the picture of the Mona Lisa.

"Puzzle! Puzzle!" she laughed and squealed. Salty, who was next to her, opened a present and saw that it was a hat with a propeller on the top. He put it on and smiled uncontrollably.

Elsa's gifts included a bottle of Chanel No. 5, a new feather boa, a makeup compact that was very expensive at about $70, three new satin gowns with different styles in plum purple, royal blue and emerald green, two pairs of pumps imported from Paris, and a bottle of fine pinot grigio wine. Dell received a new pair of weights, each 300 pounds, and a new costume for future performances that was less flamboyant than the one he already was using. Desiree, his wife, received three new custom-made bras to support her three breasts, as well as some new lingerie, a new pair of shoes, a bottle of jasmine and musk perfume, and new black stockings. Ethel, on the other hand, received three new blouses with coordinating skirts, a new costume for future performances in the freak show, a grooming set, and a new handheld mirror with a rose cameo on the back panel.

Amazon Eve got a new pair of boots, three new outfits, a new bandana that was light green and patterned with white flowers, a new makeup compact, two lipsticks in crimson red and coral pink, and a new Ella Fitzgerald album. Paul received a brand new radio, a new cap to wear on his head, and a new pair of drum sticks. Jyoti opened her presents and found four new saris in bright, vivid colors like orange and green, as well as some coordinating outfits to mix and match. Jimmy did not get much other than a new pair of gloves for going out in public and a new pair of shoes; they weren't his usual biker boots but they were leather dress shoes—he would've preferred the latter. It wasn't until the end of opening presents that he found a sweet-smelling cologne in an overlooked small box just for him.

As for Britta, she received just as much gifts as Elsa, but slightly more. Some had been left under the tree after the show by fans who wanted to show her how much they enjoyed her unique performances on stage. Her gifts from fans included a pair of short, soft linen gloves with a lace trim on the opening and a ribbon sewn on the top of the wrist; a rainbow-colored, mystic topaz pendant-style necklace with a pair of matching earrings that looked as though someone spent a lot of money on it; and another jewelry piece consisting of a choker-like necklace with three strings of real pearls connected to one gold clasp in the back. Her other presents, not from fans, included a box full of makeup products including the lightest foundation possible for her fair skin, eyeshadow, and lipsticks; a ruby red heart pendant on a golden string—Jimmy had looked at her when opening that particular gift.

The last gift she opened was the best of them all, and the most elaborate. It was a large box wrapped in pretty green paper and topped with a cream white ribbon with the tag saying it was from Elsa. Looking at her, she opened the box and moved the tissue paper out of the way to reveal the top of a lemon yellow dress with a squared neckline scalloped in embroidered lace. The bodice was satin and embroidered with pink and white designs with a sash around the waist. The skirt was full and also made of satin but covered in a layer of tulle over a few layers of crinoline. She gasped in delight before seeing a matching pair of pumps that were yellow with white lacey designs on them. She smiled and admired the dress. Then she felt a presence behind her.

"It will be beautiful on you," a familiar voice said—it was Elsa.

"It is…_vacker_," she said, hugging Elsa in gratitude. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome, _mein leibling_," she replied, letting her go. "Wear it to the New Year's Eve Gala?"

"Oh?" Britta asked, her eyes smiling for once in her life.

"Wear it to the Gala? People will see you in it, and you will look beautiful," she insisted. Britta unwittingly started speaking her native tongue.

"It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen. For people to see me in this would be a dream come true," she said in clear Swedish.

"What?" Elsa asked. Britta shook her head and smiled slightly.

"_Ja_, I will wear it," she said, overjoyed at receiving such a beautiful gift.

For the troupe, Christmas dinner consisted of three hickory honey hams with enough meat to feed everybody, mashed potatoes, garlic-seasoned green beans, and cranberry sauce, a lot of which Pepper enjoyed and ate. The person with the most food on their plate was Dell, while the people with the least were Britta and Jyoti. Bette and Dot fought over how much ham each of them were trying to eat, while Jimmy ate casually as if nothing was wrong. He did, however, keep an eye on Britta and even watched her take small bites of her food. Knowing her past in full detail, he understood why she had so little on her plate and took small bites and small gulps of her drink. When the meal was over, Jimmy made sure to go to Britta just to talk and strike up a conversation.

"Hey, how was the food?" he asked; she had been sitting in one of the pre-set audience chairs with her leg crossed over her other one and her hands on her lap.

"Very good," she said, looking at him.

"Did you like my present?" he asked with a charming smile. Britta's lips parted so a slight smile could form, but she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Huh?" He sat down next to her and looked into her eyes.

"I'll give you a hint. It was red," he stated, winking at her. Remembering the small ruby red heart on the gold chain, she nodded slowly as the image came to her mind.

"Oh," she said. "It was very…thoughtful. _Vacker_."

"What?"

"Oh, it's what we say when we describe something beautiful," Britta explained. Jimmy smiled warmly at her, gazing into her eyes and sighing.

"I'm very glad you liked it," he said. "I bet it will look beautiful on you, Britta." He looked at her slender neck and pictured the necklace on it, the pendant sitting just below her prominent collarbones. Then, he looked into her vivid green eyes and to her naturally light pink lips. _She's so beautiful_, he thought, _I hope she can dance, because I will dance with her until the cows come home at the gala_.


	13. Chapter 13

The New Year's Gala hosted by Fraulein Elsa' Cabinet of Curiosities was held in the Jupiter Town Hall, whose large ornate front atrium was turned into a ballroom just for that night. The interior was quite spacious and the architecture was reminiscent of the open courtyard of a Roman villa with stone arches and columns. The ceiling all cumulated into a stained glass dome that resembled the Hagia Sofia, and from the very center was a chandelier composed of fine Austrian crystal. It had cost the troupe $300 to rent out the town hall's atrium, and another $250 for enough refreshments including drinks of the alcoholic and non-alcoholic variety and a buffet serving a variety of different dishes prepared by the finest chefs in town who, ironically, had been reluctant to serve the "freaks" in any way, shape or form. The atrium was decorated to the nines with white balloons in large bundles held down by weights wrapped in silver foil-like paper. The fountain was activated outside as people entered so they could walk by something pleasing the eye; people had begun to come as early as 5:00 that afternoon with hopes of catching an early glimpse of the carnies, but they hadn't arrived until ten minutes of six and through the back stairwell so they could descend the grand staircase of the atrium in front of all the guests.

A live band and three singers had been hired for that evening to provide a variety of popular music for the guests to dance to. Men in black ties and fancy suits carried metal trays topped with glasses of champagne and wine, and every guest wore their best clothes, be it a nice, freshly-ironed suit or a lavish evening gown of silk or taffeta. The large clock, which had been mounted into the wall when it was built decades before, was blocked by the town's mayor, a short, portly man with a good demeanor and humorous outlook. Once everyone got a glimpse of him standing up on the top of the stairs, they stopped their chatter and listened to him as he tapped the rim of his crystal wine flute with a spoon.

"Good evening, everyone!" he called out with a jovial smile—the guests all greeted him in kind. Then, he began his mini speech.

"Our guests of honor will be revealed shortly, but I wanted to thank everyone for attending this one-of-a-kind event that is the first in our town's history. I also thank Elsa Mars and her Cabinet of Curiosities for treating us to such a lavish affair, and right after Christmas, too! Let's kick off the new year with our town carnies!"

The live band played a soft jazz song as Elsa and Dell led the procession of carnies down the staircase—everyone gasped at how they were dressed. Elsa was wearing one of the satin dresses she had gotten for Christmas—it was plum purple with a sweetheart neckline and straps hidden by her new feather boa, and her shoes matched her dress perfectly and gave her an air of regality. Dell was dressed in a grey pinstripe suit with a tie, and his wife Desiree wore a fur cape over a bright orange evening dress that accentuated her womanly curves. Jyoti stuck with a fancier outfit and a jeweled bindi on her forehead, and Eve wore a strapless ice blue dress with a full, ruffled skirt with short gloves on her hands and her hair permed and piled in a chignon. Jimmy, who decided to be dressy but casual, wore his good dress shirt with the neck unbuttoned and his best slacks complete with his auburn-brown hair done to perfection and his new leather shoes. Pepper wore a cap-sleeved dress not with a full skirt but with a Peter Pan collar and corsage pinned to her upper left chest, while Salty stuck with a casual suit picked for him by Elsa. Dot and Bette, on their conjoined body, wore a light, mint green evening gown with short sleeves and specially-decorated headbands for the occasion.

The most admired for her appearance by the guests was Britta, who indeed wore the dress Elsa had given her and instructed her to wear. She was a vision, akin to a thousand suns shining heavily to brighten the night as it progressed—the lemon yellow dress with the silk bodice embroidered with pink and white flowers, scalloped neckline, and full tulle skirt in contrast with her golden blonde, pin-curled hair down and loose, made her look like an angel who had descended from heaven just to be with everyone. Her makeup was light, and not too heavy with a peachy pink lipstick, defined brows, and white eyeshadow with flecks of gold pigment. Even the crystal chandelier, beautiful as it was, paled in comparison to Britta's striking Nordic beauty. Just seeing her caused everyone to clap and raise their glasses—she had been the savior of Elsa's dying business, which was now thriving and a roaring success with her as the headlining act.

The music continued and the carnies began to mingle with the public—socialites, news reporters from a magazine and three newspapers from different cities including their own small town, politicians, and laypeople were dressed to the nines and fully interacting with them. Although there was the usual dirty look or crude comment, everyone was actually very nice to them. The hours seemed to pass quickly, much like a blur one couldn't be able to remember. Before they knew it, it was close to 10:30 PM. Jimmy, who was trying to look for Britta so they could dance, was tapped on the shoulder by a familiar finger; he turned around and gasped at the sight of Maggie Esmeralda dressed in black silk and smoking a cigarette in her graceful two fingers.

"Hello," she said with a smile. "It's been a while."

Maggie Esmeralda, a 'clairvoyant' with a deceptive streak that made her a con artist, had been with Jimmy the year before—they seemed to have a thing going on, and even became his girlfriend for a period of five months. Their relationship ended after she was booted from the freak show after she was found to be a con artist. Jimmy, who hated the fact that she had lied about herself and cheated people out of their hard-earned money, channeled his anger into an intense argument and break-up the night before she was set to leave. Her firing led Elsa to take her two-month trip to Europe to find a new act. Granted, he had fond memories with her, but it meant nothing to him now, for he had his sights on another woman—Britta.

Maggie Esmeralda had remained in Jupiter after being fired, and at this point in time, she was running a struggling psychic business in a tent set up in the center of the park.

"Uh…hi," he said, uncomfortable by her presence as his eyes scanned through the throngs of guests in search for the Swede.

"Well, I would've expected a much more cordial response," she said, blowing the smoke away. "Did you forget about me?"

"How could I?" he retorted. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, I came to see _you_, of course," she smiled, approaching him and trying to come on to him. He ignored her, but she kept going. "Who are you looking for? I'll help you find her."

"None of your business," he said sternly, still looking around as she placed her hands on his chest to urge him to pay attention to her.

"Jimmy, I know you're still mad," she said calmly, her red lips glistening under the light of the Austrian crystal chandelier, her soft light brown eyes looking up at him as she slinked her arms around his neck as if to dance. "Can't we just _dance_? At _least_? For old time's sake?"

With aggravation, Jimmy rolled his deep, dark eyes and shook his head. _She won't leave me alone until I give in_, he thought. Sighing, he reluctantly put his hands on her waist, swaying back and forth with the music as he listened to the suitable lyrics for the situation sung by a sultry singer in a sequined black evening gown and black hair, her painted red lips canting the tune:

"_I was five and he was six  
We rode on horses made of sticks  
He wore black and I wore white  
He would always win the fight_…"

Meanwhile, Britta had been approached by the general public and spoken to by half of the guests. It had felt as though as she had met everyone who attended the gala, but suddenly, a man in a striking sky blue suit and white bowtie caught her eye. He had strange blue eyes and a ridiculous haircut with two prominent curls on front of his head, much like victory rolls from the decade before. His eyes were a strange blue color, and he was holding a white rose with the thorns cut off the stem, and when he approached her, he got a better look at her—it was Dandy.

"You look stunning this evening," he smiled. Britta looked up into his strange eyes and chuckled slightly, turning red from his presence—she was too shy.

"Oh, _hej_," she greeted in a friendly manner.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dandy Mott," he said, extending the white rose to her which he accepted and smelled gently. "You are Britta Nordlund?"

"_Ja_," she said.

"I..." He smiled and looked away for a brief moment before looking back at her and clasping his hands. "I am…a _huge_ fan of your performances, and you…" He looked her up and down, from her golden crown braid to her dainty yellow and white lacey pumps that matched her dress perfectly. "You look so beautiful tonight…I…" He extended his hand nervously and extended his hand out to her in a gentleman-like manner. "I hope you can dance with me, Miss Nordlund!" She looked away for a moment, blushing until her face turned bright red; she had no dancing skills.

"I am sorry, sir, but…I do not dance," she told him, biting her lower lip and looking down with embarrasment.

"You can't _dance_? _What_?" Dandy laughed. "Oh please, I've heard bigger whoppers from a doornail.

"What?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable; _this man is strange and scary_, she thought.

"You're in shows every week," he said, backing up his claim. "You're always in front of groups of people this big. Plus, I could've sworn you Nordic ladies are taught music and dance?"

"Uh…_nej_," she replied. "I was not. Never."

On the other side of the ballroom, Jimmy had been hearing Maggie Esmeralda talking to him and trying to get his attention as he tried dancing with her and spotting Britta simultaneously. Suddenly, he got a peak of a familiar figure with golden hair, and squinted as he slowed down the dance. Maggie looked up at him, and then in the direction he was looking in—the moment he saw a very familiar man interacting with the striking Swede, he glanced down at Maggie and stopped, letting her go.

"I have to go now," he said. Maggie took another cigarette from her purse and lighting it. She took her first drag, smiling sinisterly at him as he abandoned her on the floor.

His vision became much clearer as he excused and made his way out of the massive crowd until he stood there to watch Britta being charmed by Dandy, the strange man he had flared his temper at when he requested to be a part of the troupe. He immediately made his way over and looked at Britta, whose green eyes smiled at him in relief. Dandy, however, took Maggie Esmeralda's advice seriously—_he is the one in my way, and I must get rid of him_, he thought evilly.

"Britta, I've been looking all over for you," he said, looking down at her. She returned his gaze before Jimmy turned his dark brown gaze to Dandy, whose smile was as fake as plastic.

"Well, if it isn't Lobster Claws," he said cynically. "Come to pinch her away from me so soon? We were just having fun."

"Fun my ass," Jimmy retorted harshly. "You stay away from her, or you'll be sorry."

"Ooh, what are you gonna do? Pinch my cheeks until I'm red?" Dandy asked, feigning fear with his sarcasm.

"I mean it! You're askin' for it!" the fiery young man hissed, his deformed hands forming tight fights as his shoulders leaned forward to intimidate him. Britta was not too intimidated, but tried to hold him back from causing a scene at a happy event.

"Please stop! Don't be so angry," she said in clear Swedish, trying to place her small hands on his shoulders. "Keep calm."

"What the heck did she say?" Dandy asked. Jimmy looked back into Britta's calm green eyes and then back at the strange, criminally-minded man.

"Nothing for you to know, but if you know what's good for you, stay away from her or you'll have to go through _me_," Jimmy barked.

"Ooh, Mr. Tough Freak is on the loose!"

That was enough to make a furious Jimmy shove Dandy so hard she fell to the hard, stone floor and groaned in pain upon impact as he landed on his butt and back. Surrounding guests gasped and looked at the man with the deformed hands in shock—two women helped the strange man up, and Jimmy stared at him with his cold, unforgiving eyes before addressing the people who witnessed the incident.

"What are you guys gawking at? It_ is_ a party, ain't it?" he said crudely. Britta, who stood there, looked at Jimmy and was now frightened by his venomous, viper-like temper even though she had seen it several times. She took a step back when his gaze met hers; her lips were closed but a sad smile was hidden in them. _Why is he acting so macho tonight_, she asked herself.

"I'm sorry, Britta," he said, approaching her and looking down into her eyes. She shook her head, looking up into his eyes—now, he was very nervous. What was she thinking?

"You are always so mad," she said, her thick accent lacing her sad tone. "He was only…trying to be kind to me."

"Britta, come with me," he commanded, taking her hand and making his way across the huge crowds of guests who were celebrating; he could've sworn he had seen the visage of a creepy clown, but when he looked to find it again, it wasn't there. Elsa was in the distance, flirting with the town treasurer, a man of about thirty-five, over fine wine. Britta followed where Jimmy was taking her—it was to just past one of the arched columns in the outskirts of the atrium, where only three people were standing and socializing with flutes of champagne and hors d'oeurves being shared among them.

He looked at her delicate face; her fair skin radiated like the moon, and her freckles, though few, added an adorable charm to her that he had grown to love. Her long golden hair was perfectly curled and styled, and her eyes, a vivid green shade, was something he always liked to look at on her. Her lithe, willowy frame was perfectly accentuated by her lemon yellow dress composed of satin, embroidery and tulle, and her small feet were covered in white hose stockings and in a pair of shoes that matched her dress perfectly. Her Swedish accent was carried like the scent of a flower in the summer wind, and her heart was full of light. After learning of her troubled childhood and adolescence, he swore himself to always protect her and keep her safe even if it cost him his life. His heart raced, feeling his soul burn and yearn for every moment he wanted to spend with her. He had to tell her more about Dandy and how he knew him.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes meeting his dark brown gaze.

"Dandy is…how do I put it? He is…_very_…odd," he told her. "He wanted to leave his perfect house on the hill just to join the show. There wasn't even anything wrong with him to set him apart like our deformities do for us, and he expected us to just open our arms to him. He is _not _a good person."

"Are you just—"

"No! I'm not just _anything_, Britta," he said emphatically. "I just…" He shook his head, his heart racing faster as he took a heavy breath to try and calm down. "I just…can't bear to ever see you get hurt."

"Jimmy," she muttered. The sound of his name in her accent made him go crazy inside, making his heart beat even faster. "You…need not worry about me. I am…used to people not."

"Britta, you should_ not_ be used to that," he said calmly, staring down into her eyes before he grunted in frustration. "Ugh, what am I saying?" He paced away from her a few steps and adjusted the curl in front of his hair—he rolled his eyes, feeling like a total idiot; she had no choice but to be forced being accustomed to people who treated her badly or simply didn't give her a thought or a care in the world.

"I…I have something to tell you, and I have waited for the right time to say it. It's now or never," he said, walking back to her and holding her hands, which wore the small gloves made of fine linen with a lace trim around the opening. Her green eyes looked hopeful, as if he were to say something that would touch her heart.

"What is it?" she asked softly. He lifted his hand to her face and caressed her feminine jawline, his thumb stroking the bottom of her cheek. He sighed and took a moment before staring into her eyes and letting his heart do the talking.

"I love you," he said passionately, tempted to kiss her right then and there. Britta looked up at him, but then looked down before he lifted her chin up to look at him straight in the eyes.

"Since the day you first blessed us with your presence, I…I have felt such…" He gulped and continued. "joy, and…even though at first, I had no idea why you were brought to the freak show. I didn't see anything wrong with you, well, at least until that night in the big tent when I saw you lifting things with your mind." Britta kept a blank face, staring up at him as he continued. He sighed, smiling slightly. "You are just…so beautiful and kind and strong. In fact, you're the strongest person I have ever met in my entire life." Her face seemed to smile up at him, but her eyes showed more emotions than her lips would with a smile. "…and I love you for it; very, very much."

Her lips rose to form a closed smile, her facial expression going from blank to serene. Jimmy looked down into her eyes, but got concerned when she didn't respond. Just when she was about to say something, he put words in her mouth due to his nervousness.

"If you don't share my feelings, I understand." He held her hands in his deformed ones and sighed. "Then again, who would want to love a freak like me?" She then held his hands tighter, looking up at him with concern.

"You are not a freak," she told him. "You are…" She looked down, thinking of the right words to say before speaking. "You are…a very good person. People only are mean to you because they…do not see how good you are to people and to me and….to the others. I can trust you, and I have told you…my secrets."

Jimmy took the lithe girl into his arms and held her, one of his deformed hands rubbing the small of her back. He softly inhaled the amalgam of jasmine and lavender that lingered on her neck and in her hair. He felt Britta's thin arms hold him to her as she rested her chin on his shoulder, catching the smell of the crisp scents of cologne and his natural, manly smell that had mingled in with the perfumed substance over the course of a few hours. She sighed contently, feeling Jimmy's lips kiss the side of her neck just below her ear, making her let out a gasp.

Meanwhile, the countdown to midnight and the year 1954 was coming, and Elsa made the announcement after clinking her glass with a small fork.

"The countdown to 1954 begins now!" she declared, raising her glass and laughing as she saw all the carnies grouped together around her at the top of the staircase. Eve held out a bottle of champagne.

"Counting down!" the mayor exclaimed, holding out his fingers and counting down with everyone in unison. "9, 8, 7, 6, 5…"

Jimmy, still holding Britta, led them out toward the outside of the column and they both watched up in wonder, counting down with everyone in the atrium-turned-ballroom. "…4, 3, 2, 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The champagne bottle Eve had been holding exploded, the cork shooting out as the sweet, frothy substance got all over the floor and on Pepper, Jyoti, and Desiree. The clock rang like a bell at church and everyone smiled and celebrated with _Auld Lang Sine_ being played by the live band. Jimmy did a fist bump in the air with a "woohoo!" before taking the petite Swede into his arms, looking into her eyes before crashing his lips onto hers. Her eyes widened at first in shock at him, but then she relaxed and closed them knowing that she felt the exact same way about him that he did her and that she was finally in good hands…no pun intended.

When the clock read 12:13, the live band began to really hype up the remainder of the guests, a fourth of which had left because they had children at home, by playing renditions of rock n' roll tunes. Jimmy had let the Swede go and held her hand, leading her to the dance floor excitedly as he began to really rock it out in front of everyone. She, however, just stood there.

"I cannot dance," she said over the music.

"Watch me!" Jimmy replied playfully, one of his deformed hand on the side of his slicked-back auburn brown hair as his feet worked themselves into a twist-like dance with his other hand on his hip. She tried to mimic his movements, but she had two left feet and couldn't.

"Let the music move you!" he said, taking her hands and swaying rapidly with her as he licked his upper lip briskly. Her lemon yellow skirt moved gracefully as she twirled, as the singer, the only male one, sang:

"_His mother told him someday you will be a man,  
And you would be the leader of a big old band.  
Many people coming from miles around  
To hear you play your music when the sun go down  
Maybe someday your name will be in lights  
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight_…"

The riffs in the bridge sounded amazing to Britta as she went along with Jimmy's rapid dancing, and for once didn't care how she looked. When the song ended moments later, the riffs switched over the a slow melody for all the couples to slow dance to—naturally, Jimmy took Britta and held her close, getting into position and swaying with her to _Earth Angel_, which sounded extremely romantic by nature. She rested her head against his chest and smiled happily, pursing her lips inward.

"Britta, you say you've never danced a day in your life, but here you are now," Jimmy told her, swaying as the song progressed. She chuckled slightly, shaking her head.

"I have never been a good dancer," she told him.

"Well, now you're with me…nothing can spoil this night," Jimmy said, looking down into her eyes before kissing her forehead gently.

Little did they know that Dandy and Maggie Esmeralda, who met up and started to dance out of courtesy, were watching them vindictively—Maggie wanted her revenge on Jimmy, and Dandy wanted Britta to fulfill his morbid obsession with her. Containing all his intense fury within toward the man who was winning Britta's heart before he could, he couldn't help but affirm that Maggie's advice was accurate.

"You were right. There really _is_ someone in the way," he muttered crudely. Maggie looked up at him and sighed.

"I didn't choose the gift. The gift chose me," she claimed.

Dandy speculated, watching the happy couple dance and Britta being shown affection by Jimmy via kisses to her cheek and holding her close and tightly. His curiosity was further sparked when he had seen them both leave the town hall—he could've sworn he had heard a motorcycle zoom by.


	14. Chapter 14

_NOTE: Sexual content ahead. Discretion advised._

Ethel made her way through the guests, who were dancing wildly to the upbeat tempo of _Shake, Rattle and Roll_, having been in search for her son for the last fifteen minutes. Sighing and shaking her head, she came up to Elsa, who was holding little Jyoti and dancing with her to the tune as if she were just a small child.

"Did you find them yet?" the German woman asked.

"No, I ain't seen them," Ethel replied, adjusting her horizontal, black sequined headband that resembled a headpiece from her youth. She took a stroke of her beard before drinking from the glass of cognac she had in her hand—it had been her sixth drink that night on top of two glasses of wine.

"_Verdammt_," Elsa muttered, handing Jyoti over to Pepper who took her in her arms. "I wonder where they've gone."

"Oh boy," the bearded lady muttered, looking down at her honey yellow-colored cocktail; Elsa leaned into Ethel and looked into her clear dark blue eyes curiously.

"Have you seen Britta? I haven't since 8:00," Elsa questioned. "She was giving a little interview in the lounge down the hall to a reporter from the newspaper, finally. I was with her."

"Oh…" The bearded lady trailed off and bit her lower lip, looking downward. "I…haven't seen her since we got here."

"Oh, _mein gott_," Elsa muttered in disbelief with an impatient sigh. "She is supposed to be here! She is the star!"

"Ugh, fine. I'll go look for her. No guarantees of findin' her." With that being said, Ethel walked away.

Having left the town hall with Britta on the back of the motorcycle, Jimmy steered down the empty road, speeding really fast in order to get back to the grounds of the freak show. Britta grew nervous as the darkness consumed the air—the moon wasn't out, and as they got closer to that part of town, there were no street lights—just the pure darkness of night. Despite having spent days and nights locked under her foster parents' home with no light on, the dark still frightened her to an extent because it reminded her so much of their abuse toward her. The wind that blew as they cruised down the road wiped a tear that was starting to form from her left eye, and she rested her head on his leather-coated back until they reached the front of Jimmy's trailer. Once he kicked the stand down, he got off and extended his hand to bring Britta off the motorbike.

"C'mon," he said. "It's late."

Britta and Jimmy entered his trailer and it looked cleaner than it had been when she was last there, all made clear when he flicked on the light. She took a seat and leaned back on the sofa, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them to Jimmy removing his jacket, dress shirt, and even his tank top—she looked at him blankly, but her eyes looked shocked, admiring his chiseled, slender frame and broad shoulders as he reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette, lighting it with his Zippo lighter before taking a drag. The fuming cigarette looked so peculiar between his deformed, fused fingers; then he looked at Britta and walked toward the sofa, sitting right next to her as she looked back at him with her vivid green eyes. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing out the smoke and he handed to butt to the Swede.

"Wanna?" he offered. Shrugging, she took the cigarette, putting the butt in her mouth and inhaling, letting out a little cough before taking another drag. Jimmy watched her and chuckled, leaning in closer and watching her puff on his cigarette.

"Never smoked either?" he asked. Surprisingly, she shook her head.

"I smoked before," she answered.

"Whoa," Jimmy chuckled. "I ain't seen you smoke."

"I…well, it has been a while," she said, taking another drag before giving it back to him. Jimmy took a drag and sighed.

"When did you stop?"

"Eh…" Britta thought for a moment and looked down at the skirt of her dress, the tulle and satin rolled up slightly to reveal a hint of pure white crinoline—Jimmy bit his lip at the sight, at least until she adjusted it. "When Elsa took me here."

"Well, if you ever need 'em, I can take you to the place I get 'em," he said, dragging on the cigarette once more before crushing it in the ashtray. Britta looked at him and smiled slightly with a nod.

"_Tack_," she said.

Jimmy put his hands on her petite waist and wrapped them around her lithe frame as he leaned in to kiss the side of her delicate neck, his warm breath caressing her as he moved up to her ear. When he saw that she didn't respond via moaning or some other indicator that she liked it, he lifted her chin up and turned her head to face him, moving a stray piece of her golden hair that had clung to her cheek.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"_Ja_," she said softly, close to a whisper. He leaned in a kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear gently.

"I love you," he said gently, holding one of her hands and caressing her fingers and palm. Britta smiled and nodded slowly, taking a steady breath and not knowing what to say. Yes, she felt the same way—she just did not know how to say it without sounding like an imbecile. Jimmy, looking into her eyes lovingly, sighed softly.

"Britta," he began. "If you don't feel the same way about me, I understand. But…I do hope that, you know, you can open your heart to me and allow me to…" He sighed, cupping her face in his hand, "make you the happiest girl in the world. I may have a deformity, but I would hope you can see past that and love me for who I am inside."

"I do," she said.

Jimmy, smiling with his charming grin with dimples in his cheeks, leaned in to kiss her soft lips tenderly. Feeling nervous as all hell, she only returned his kiss a little bit at first as she placed her hands on his shoulders and upper chest; her feather-light touch was enough to arouse him and give him the urge to take her right then and there. _Don't do that_, he thought to himself, a reminder of the past she had, _be tender and slow with her_.

"Mm-" Britta sounded like she was grunting, so Jimmy stopped and leaned his forehead into hers, staring into her eyes and holding her hand gently.

"What's wrong?"

"This is not right," she said, her body trembling with anxiety. "I…I…"

"Why? I thought—"

"I am not married," Britta admitted after a moment of silence.

"Me neither," Jimmy stated, "but that makes two of us. If you _are_ ready, I will go very slow and be very gentle with you," he told her. "If not, I will understand completely." Her mind scrambling between old memories and her feelings for Jimmy muddled her thinking, but she wanted to be happy; she didn't want to hide behind her past anymore.

"Jimmy," she whispered softly, the sound of his name in her accent driving him wild as he embraced her close, waiting for an answer. When she did, she whispered softly.

"I…want to."

Feeling a rush of sexual energy, he leaned in and crashed his lips onto hers, pulling her onto his lap so he could carry her light-weight form to his bedroom area down the small hallway bridal style. He set her down on her feet, holding her close and kissing her neck as he took his time trying to find the small zipper in the back of her dress. As she felt his hands caressing her satin-covered back in the process, Britta took steady breaths, as nervous as she was, and she held him tightly to her. Jimmy kissed her neck more passionately, making her let out a moan as he finally found the zipper, pulling it down to let a draft of air hit her back. Britta gasped, turning red with a tear coming from her eye due to the overwhelming heat of the moment. Unlike the one who violated her in cold blood, Jimmy felt warm and sincere in his feelings for her—this lessened her worries, but she was still so nervous. Once her dress was completely undone, he gently pulled it down off her body, and Britta stepped out of it gently.

Jimmy, who tried to undo his good slacks, was mesmerized by her body; she looked incredibly thin in her modest clothing, but wearing only a white bra, panties, and a garter belt to hold up her white stockings, she looked shapelier with curves around her hips. Her waist was naturally a small circumference, and her breasts looked slightly fuller in her plain ivory bra than underneath her long-sleeved blouses. She took off her gloves and tossed them to the floor, and Jimmy, whose pants were down and off, approached her and kissed her with such passion she fell back on the bed with him on top of her. She turned beet red, and he took notice, caressing her face.

"Are you ok?" he asked, reaching down to hold her hips as he bent her legs up a little to pop off her small yellow shoes with white lace, putting them down again slightly to undo the garters from her garter belt. Britta stared up into his eyes, leaning up to kiss him as softly as she could—he pressed his lips to hers and his tongue slowly explored her mouth.

"Mm," she moaned softly, gently playing with his tongue in return as her heart raced beyond her control. She felt him reach behind her, and she arched her back to let him undo her bra as much as she was nervous in letting him do so.

He gently pulled off her bra by the straps, gasping a little as he revealed her breasts, which did look fuller in the nude. Her nipples were perfectly perky and when he went to fondle them with his deformed hands, Britta gasped at his touch—it felt like heaven, and when he stared down at her with a seductive smile, it made her heart die.

"You're so beautiful," he muttered, leaning in to kiss and gently nibble on her neck while caressing her breasts and gently playing with her nipples. The way he was doing it was enough to enjoy it, but the fact that his some of his fingers were fused together made it all the better as a sensation. He had pleasured many women in town as a part of his "services", but this was something special, intimate, profound…he kissed down her neck and to her chest before kissing her tender breasts all over.

"Ah," she moaned softly, feeling him tease her by kissing around her nipples before taking it into his mouth to gently kiss and suck on it. She felt the knots in her stomach become butterflies as his tongue circled each nipple very slowly. He moaned softly as he continued to fondle and kiss her breasts, gazing up at her.

"Does that feel good?" he asked. She nodded shyly, her cheeks redder than a strawberry. He went back up again to kiss her softly, the feeling of her soft, sweet lips making his member hard in his pants. He knelt up and proceeded to remove her garter belt, leaving kisses on her tummy and hips in the process—this made Britta very nervous.

"Ahh," she groaned. He looked up at her and continued to leave kisses along her prominent hips. She let out another moan, feeling a strange burning sensation in her loins.

"Hmm, Britta," he sighed, going to kiss her lips as she sat up slightly as his hand trailed down her tummy and past it, feeling her womanhood over her panties.

"Ah!" She broke the kiss and let out a moan of distaste, taking his hand away as her mind's eye replayed terrible memories of her rape by Lars. Realizing he may have been a little too direct, Jimmy sighed and blushed of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. Are you ok?" he asked, kissing her cheek.

"I am…scared" she said, her body shaking and her nerves quivering. Jimmy planted a kiss on her lips, taking a different approach as he went to kneel between her legs, parting them slowly as he placed his hands on her knees.

"You don't have to be. You're with _me_. I won't hurt you, Britta," he said, reassuring her. "I promise." With a sigh, she licked her lips and gazed down into his dark brown eyes, feeling his deformed hands glide up her inner thighs.

"Alright," she said, taking a deep breath. "I am sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's ok. I understand why you're nervous. It's normal," he said, taking her right garter into his teeth and pulling her first white stocking down and off slowly. Britta watched him as he proceeded to take the other one off the same way, and he kissed all the way from her ankles, up her knees, and up her thighs while caressing them gently. Once he got between her legs, he teasingly stuck his tongue out over the satin of her panties; Britta felt a little bit odd with his head between her legs, but she let out a moan once Jimmy pressed his lips softly to them. He knew she was wet and he was proud of himself for making her that way.

"Ah!" she gasped, feeling him nibble gently as he looked up at her to make eye contact. She moaned a little bit more, her hips trembling as he continued to massage her thighs and pleasure her orally through her panties. To Jimmy, she tasted good so far but wouldn't know for sure until he took them off. When he did, he was very slow, and when he tossed them aside, Britta crossed her legs tightly over each other so he wouldn't see.

"Please…d-do not stare," she whimpered.

"Why not?" he asked with smirk.

"It is…_äckligt_!" she squealed, shutting her eyes. Jimmy, who was persistent to demonstrate his ability to pleasure a woman, tried to ease her legs apart for him. He didn't know what she was saying, but he tried to slowly pry them apart so he could see and access her wet, hot womanhood.

"Please? May I touch it? I won't look," he said convincingly. "I'll be gentle. Just…please?"

Sucking her lips inward and shutting her eyes, she loosened the grip her legs held and allowed Jimmy to part them slowly. Of course, he couldn't promise her that he wouldn't see it—he got a glimpse, and it was perfectly pink and pretty. He had seen many, but he felt Britta's to be the most beautiful he had ever seen. Kneeling between her legs in such a way that hers remained open, he licked his fused fingers to get them extra wet and began to massage her slick, wet folds gently, focusing on the flap of skin that hid her sensitive button of nerves.

"AH!" she moaned loudly, glancing up at him as he smiled down at her. He loved that she was enjoying herself, and he kissed her cheek. He teased her entrance to coax out more of her liquid, loving how amazingly wet she was.

"It's so warm," he muttered, licking his lips. Britta moaned in pleasure softly and quietly, but when he tried to slide his fingers inside, she gasped and let out a louder shout of delight.

"AH! Oh…ah…" she gasped, feeling his thumb start to rub her clit in circles. Her hips started to buck, and she muttered to herself in Swedish as she moaned, feeling his fused fingers come across a sensitive spot inside her.

"How did you learn to do this? It feels so good!" she exclaimed in her language. "_Jag älskar dig_…"

He didn't understand a word she had said, but he continued as she moaned in pleasure, taking the hint as he leaned to kiss her breasts again. He licked each nipple once teasingly, and when he took his fingers away, he put them to his mouth and tasted her—he moaned as if he had just tasted a delicious meal, gazing down at her.

"Hm…can I taste more of you?" he begged.

Not entirely understanding him, she nodded anyway and he kissed down her tummy and hips until he reached her womanhood, sticking out his tongue and licking slowly, leaving a kiss right above her clit. Feeling what he was doing and thinking it to be strange, she jolted and looked down at him in pure shock.

"Ah! That is dirty!" she exclaimed, covering her beet red face as he continued to pleasure her with his tongue, tasting every fold, near her entrance, and her clit.

"Hm, you taste so good, though. It's not dirty at all," he whispered, his tongue focused on her sensitive, throbbing clit; he could tell she liked what he was doing because she moaned and panted like crazy as she ran her fingers through the front of his hair. Her body trembled, her thighs shaking slightly as he kept focusing on her clit.

"Ah…ah…ah…" she moaned repeatedly, trailing his flat, wet tongue around her entrance before sliding it in—she let out a scream. What was he doing to her, and why did it feel so damn good?

"Mm…." Jimmy moaned as he tasted her nectar directly from the source, and Britta tossed her head back, feeling the pleasure that was building up suddenly begin to be released as he reached up and groped one of her breasts. She let out a scream loud enough to wake a whole neighborhood as she came. He licked her clean of her climax before kissing his way back up to her lips, giving her a taste of herself as he kissed her and held her close.

"I love you," he moaned.

"_Jag älskar dig_," she told him, body still trembling from her orgasm.

As he held her, he took his free hand and pulled down his boxers as much as he could before kneeling upright between her legs, pulling them off completely and letting his rock hard, throbbing member pop out and make itself known to Britta, who gazed in shock at how well-endowed he was. He had to have been at least eight or nine inches, and it was somewhat thick and bent upwards slightly.

"Oh my god, it's huge!" she said in Swedish, covering her mouth in shock. Suddenly scared about feeling pain again, Jimmy looked down at her and smirked, blushing as a dimple showed in his cheek.

"Don't worry, I will not hurt you," he said. "I'll be really gentle, I promise."

Britta's stomach tied in knots again, but tried to forget the memories as Jimmy rubbed the tip of his thick, long, hard, throbbing member against her clit, making her moan softly. When he put it near her entrance, he went down to hold her and kiss her with passion.

"Are you ready, Britta?" he asked, moving a strand of hair from her face that had become disheveled from their ardent lovemaking.

She sighed and nodded slowly, feeling his tip tease her entrance before it finally slid in. It was like a miracle—no pain, no large bulky man of a tremendous height on top of her and crushing her, and no one to hold her neck really tight so she couldn't make an incriminating sound. Jimmy only entered half way and he kissed her forehead lovingly as he took his thrusting slow at first so she could get a feel for him.

"How does it feel?" he asked, making sure she was no in pain or discomfort. Britta tossed her head back at his slow, shallow thrusts and felt a tear of positive emotions escape her eye.

"Ah…_ja_," she said in pleasure. She surprisingly felt tighter than he had anticipated, but he knew for sure it didn't feel like a virgin, but of course she had it torn away from her cruelly by her sexually deviant foster brother. For Britta, this had set her free…her heart danced as he sped up and held her hand. The tragic memories seemed to just blow away like a candle in the wind.

"Ah…ah _ja_…_ja_…" she moaned as he thrusted deeper with each movement. He took her legs and wrapped them around his waist, allowing him to delve deeper inside her womanhood. She could feel every contraction of her walls around his thick, throbbing member as she moaned gradually louder.

"Ah! Ahh!" she moaned. She then began to speak her native tongue; "Jimmy, I love you! Please! Faster! It feels so good…better than I thought it would!"

Although he didn't understand her and her words, he moved faster and harder, focusing on her sweet spot as she began to scream and claw at his back like a tiger in heat. The pain aroused him even more and incited him to go deeper inside her, as deep as her body would allow; so deep that the tip brushed against her cervix. Feeling him so deep inside her and that he truly loved her made her heart melt as she neared her climax, letting out a series of screams that gradually grew louder until she couldn't take anymore. Jimmy, on the other hand, pumped his load as deep inside of her as he possibly could, groaning as each drop of his warm semen was absorbed by her womb. Feeling him cum inside her, she moaned—it was like the one who violated her had been washed away completely; he was no more. It felt so warm and delightful to her.

He pulled out of her, dripping with her juices as he pulled the sheets over himself and Britta, who was lying on her side with her knees bent up toward her torso and her eyes closed, back to Jimmy. He moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder, sighing and kissing the side of her neck.

"I love you…so much," he said. "I…hope I could…make you feel good tonight, Britta." She nodded, a tired expression on her face as she turned to lay on her back, looking up at him as he caressed her gentle face.

"_Ja_," she said. "I…love…you." She finally said it in English, although it was broken and heavily sounded by her accent, making him the happiest man in the world as they cuddled and fell asleep for the rest of the early morning.

As soon as the first hint of sunrise came to Jupiter, Britta woke up and looked over at Jimmy, who was sleeping very lax with his arm over her upper one and his torso facing down. She got out of the bed and put back on her bra and underpants, leaving her stockings and shoes behind as she put on her dress, took out her messy crown braid and silently left Jimmy's trailer to go back to Ethel's caravan. The weather was cool, and the grass was slightly damp. When she made her way to the dirt road connecting all of the caravans, trailers and tents, she felt an impact on the back of her head.

The world turned black.


	15. Chapter 15

At the middle of dawn, Jimmy stirred from his slumber as he felt surges of joy running through every nerve in his body. Having Britta in his bed made him feel so fulfilled, as he never truly loved anyone before in the way that had for her. He turned on his side, opening his eyes softly and regained his conscious vision as he tried to reach for her and cuddle with her as if she had been there. The moment he reached only to find empty space, he gasped with worry and his weary eyes, given a sudden jerk of energy, opened wide as he flipped off the covers and walked around the bed to see if she had fallen off recklessly in her sleep. Nothing was there; absolutely nothing except for her stockings, garter belt, and shoes which had been left behind when she went to go back to Ethel's caravan.

Soon, he heard sirens from police cars outside. _Shit_, he thought as he scrambled through the clothing he had left on the floor the night before. Putting on his boxers, slacks, good shirt, and his shoes in a hurry, he fled his trailer and ran toward where the cars were parked, seeing every carnie in the show congregated and whimpering with worry. Elsa nervously smoked her cigarette and shook her head as a police officer questioned her.

"We were called here because there was a report of someone missing," the police officer said, looking at Elsa as he opened his memo pad.

"She is missing! Oh _mein gott_!" she exclaimed with worry.

"Calm down, ma'am," he said softly. "Who is missing?"

"Britta…you may have heard of her. She is one of the acts in my show, she's the headliner."

Jimmy paid close attention to Elsa's description of the girl, and the police officer jotted down every note; "blonde hair, green eyes, she has some freckles, and she's really small…" He quietly disagreed with her answers and shook his head, catching the attention of another police officer who was the partner of this detective.

"Hey, kid!" he said, a heavy Southern accent in his voice as he approached Jimmy. "Do _you_ know something?"

"What?" he asked, looking at him.

"We were reported here to investigate the disappearance of a girl. She says her name is Britta, and that she—"

"I was the last one with her," Jimmy admitted. The detective began to jot down notes as he spoke.

"What? I looked for you all night at the gala last night," Ethel said, looking at her son in disdain.

"Yes, I took her with me from last night's New Year's Eve party. We left at about quarter past midnight and I took her to my trailer and she spent the night. I woke up just now and saw that she wasn't even there in my trailer. I don't know what happened to her, but I hope she's found soon," he explained.

The detective jotted down every word he said, analyzing the angry, vengeful look planted on his face. Why had she gone missing? Did she leave his trailer and be dragged off to god-knows-where by some weirdo? Either way, Jimmy knew and felt in his bones that something was terribly wrong with how she disappeared so suddenly. The detective and cop asked everyone for some privacy in questioning this young man.

"Alright! Please! Can you disperse? We need privacy," the police officer said. Everyone followed suit and Elsa led them all into the great tent. When they were gone, the detective looked at Jimmy and began asking questions.

"Does this girl actually have blonde hair and other things she said?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What was she wearing last night at the gala?" he asked.

"It was a yellow dress it had a full kind of skirt. Her hair was down and done," he explained.

"How tall is she?" he asked.

Jimmy, who stood at five-foot eleven, leveled his hand to just below his shoulder as he struggled to remember her exact height as it was. She had been quite small in stature and had a willowy, graceful figure. He looked at the detective, who observed his motion.

"How tall are you?" he asked.

"Five eleven."

"She ought to be five two," the police officer said as his partner, the detective, jotted down notes.

"We will need some search dogs and an investigation of your trailer," the detective said. "Do you have any clothing articles or any belongings of hers?"

"Do you have a warrant?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes, right here. We got one immediately after getting the call," the detective said, showing him a document.

Nodding, Jimmy led them both to his trailer and opened the door, standing by the kitchenette as they looked around for a clue to her disappearance. They collected her shoes, stockings and garter belt, knowing the dogs would catch her scent if they sniffed even a little of it from a distance. Within a half hour, backup was called in to conduct a thorough search of his trailer—Jimmy was annoyed with this, but knew there was nothing to hide. Along with the investigators came the search dogs, which were pure-bred German Sheppards. The detective held the used garments left by Britta to their noses and they caught the scent relatively quickly, and the search began.

A young woman, a young boy, and a teenager all were shocked at the sight of a blond-haired beauty, who had been whacked on the back of the head roughly with a blunt instrument on her trip back to a nearby caravan, knocked out and tied at the wrists and ankles. She was still wearing her beautiful lemon yellow dress with a full tulle and crinoline skirt, but her legs and feet were bare, for she had left her shoes and stockings at the trailer of her love. The young woman, who stared at her delicate, weary face, leaned in to see if she was alive.

"Psst, hello?" she asked. There was not a word peeped from the woman's mouth, nor a single movement.

"Hello?" the teenager asked, a boy with the same shade of blond hair as the woman.

Within five minutes, she stirred, feeling her head pounding agonizingly and her vision fuzzy. She looked around and saw hints of being in a dilapidated, worn-down shack with a caged panel resembling a wall in front of her. As her vision became clearer, she saw the filthy surroundings and the junk that surrounded her, the young woman, the little boy, and the teenager. She gasped, feeling her ankles and wrists tightly bound behind her back—it was indeed Britta.

"Oh…_nej_," she cried. "_NEJ_!"

"Don't scream! He will hurt us!" the young woman encouraged the Swede, fearful for her own life. Tears of fright began to form in the corners her vivid green eyes as she screamed out, hoping to have enough luck to have someone walking outside to hear her cries and release not only her but the ones near her.

"_Hjälp! Hjälp!_ Please! Help me!" Britta screamed out, not stopping even as her throat ached. She cried and whimpered, her nerves rattling her body like a baby toy being shaken around repeatedly.

"Please!" the teenager pleaded forcefully. "Shut up! He's gonna kill us!"

Understanding his words, Britta started to sob and panic heavily, her breathing stopping and breaking as she struggled out of the tight ropes that confined her and prevented her from moving. She looked at the ropes that bound the wrists of the young woman, trying to find the knot and concentrating on it to loosen her binding. She brought her eyebrows in, forcing her mind to focus so hard that the rope actually snapped instead of gradually untying itself by her will. The young woman was shocked, feeling her wrists free as she brought them forward to a normal position, rubbing them roughly to decrease redness. She looked at Britta in shock, wondering how she did it.

"How…how?" she asked.

"Do not…worry," the Swede said, calming herself down with her tears plastered to her face; now, she felt hopeful to use her abilities to release them all. "I meant to untie it, not break it." She spoke really fast, and the woman only understood a little because of her thick Swedish accent.

"It still does it!" the woman cried out, still in awe as she reached down to undo her ankles, finding the knot. "Do the same for them!"

"Yeah, lady!" the teenager said.

"Please!" the little boy whined.

"It hurts…my head…" she trailed off, her eyes closing—using her powers was probably not the best choice at the moment because her fright overwhelmed her so, even the fact that her head hurt from the impact she took to the back of it. She suddenly heard footsteps, and two figures, one large and one smaller, entered the shack and stared at them frightfully with their scary masks. They were both dressed as clowns, but they looked very distinct.

The first clown, a heavy-set, tall man, was wearing a puffy, white clown suit with pompom buttons down the front, a small, conical hat between his devilish, horn-like structures on his head. His stage makeup was terribly worn away, but the white that masked his face still remained along with a design over one of his frightening brown eyes. The key feature was a scary-looking mouthpiece with prominent teeth that smiled unnaturally, and it covered a revolting injury that never healed. He was carrying a bag filled with different instruments, and they weren't distinguished.

The other clown, the size of an average man, wore a top hat, a full clown mask, and a light blue frill around his neck to complete his ghastly ensemble. His suit was more form-fitting and new than the other's, but instead of pompoms, there were circles of rainbow fabric going down the front. Britta groaned, her heart racing and her nerves rattling her body once more, as she stared at the monsters.

"Say hello to your new friend!" a familiar voice under the full mask said cheerfully, pointing at Britta and blowing a kiss inappropriately. Suspecting something was amiss with this character, she looked at the one with the full mask, who pulled it off—it was Dandy. _Jimmy was right_, she exclaimed in her head.

"You!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, _you_!" Dandy smiled, the other clown, Twisty, sitting down on a stool near the cage.

"What did we ever do?" Britta asked, looking up at the man with the strange blue eyes and ridiculous curly haircut.

"You mean, what did you_ freaks_ ever do!" He cackled. "YOU _REJECTED _ME! ONE OF YOU FREAKS IS GOING TO _PAY_! I WOULD TAKE LOBSTER CLAWS BUT…" he lowered his voice, crouching down in front of the cage and looking in at Britta and her messy crown braid, dirty lemon yellow dress, and scared green eyes. "_You_ are the one I've wanted since you came to town. My, you're a beautiful mess!"

"_Nej_! Let me go! Please! I beg you!" she whimpered.

"I don't think so. You're going to be my happy, obedient little wife!" Dandy cooed playfully, laughing like a psycho as he took a branch thin enough to poke through the grates of the cage and attaching a knife to it by tying rope around it really tightly. Horrified, Britta concentrated on it and used the abilities she could use and slipped it out of his grasp to lift it in midair, the sharp, biting blade pointing at his face. Dandy gasped, and looked at Britta furiously as his face tensed up and turned red.

"YOU WITCH!" he screamed with fury. Britta was not intimidated, having been called that before by her abusive foster family. "PUT IT DOWN! RIGHT NOW!"

"_Nej! Låt oss gå!_ Let us go! Now! Please!" she screamed, still focusing on the object.

Twisty, the scarier clown, began to bang against the cage, making the other hostages scream, even Britta, who focused on the object but then sent it flying out the glass window on the side of the shack. Frightful, she did not hesitate to use her power and forcefully shove the larger clown at a high velocity toward the front window of the shack, smashing the glass and causing multiple cuts on his body. Dandy was enraged and opened the cage, causing the other three to scream as he reached down as grabbed Britta forcefully, his nails digging into the skin of her arm. Screaming, she stared up at him, concentrating and controlled the movement of his hand—Dandy shook it to resist her power, but it was too strong as Britta directed it to his neck so he could choke himself. She then proceeded to look behind her at her bound wrists, successfully making them snap apart with the rope breaking. She rubbed her wrists and looked over at the other captives; the young woman was trying to undo the ropes that tied together the wrists and ankles of the teenager and the young boy. Britta undid her own confines on her ankles, keeping her subconscious focus.

Britta concentrated on forcing Dandy to choke himself until he fainted—never before had she used her power to defend herself, and the rush that it gave her to use her power to harm someone made her heart race as if it were Jimmy being in her presence. It was ecstasy, a forbidden fruit; once he fainted cold, she ran out of the shack with the captives behind her, running together and away from their prison.

"Go!" the Swede directed.

"Is that man dead?!" the teenager asked as he ran rapidly. Twisty, who had recovered his movements, went after them and ran as fast as he could.

"He is gaining on us! _RUN_!" the young woman screamed.

Britta turned her head back to look, seeing he was only a few yards behind them as they made their daring escape, all thanks to her and her gifts. Twisty stopped to catch his breath, but the moment the Swede looked forward, she began to tumble down a steep hill, tree branches and itchy bushes hitting her on the way down. Her momentum stopped as a rock brushed the side of her temple, knocking her out as she landed in a large, but shallow pond. Her once beautiful, clean dress was not tattered and ripped at the seams, and her hair was half loose, fanning itself out in the water. She was floating face up, her eyes closed as the water took her away.


	16. Chapter 16

The search for Britta carried on into late afternoon that day, and everyone was so worried about her whereabouts and why she went missing. Elsa cried for hours, dragging on dry, fuming cigarettes and holding tissues to her eyes and nose. Ethel, Desiree, Bette and Dot, Eve, Paul, Jyoti, Pepper and Salty were all congregated in the great tent in deep worry about their costar and "family member". Ethel stroked her beard and looked around, speculating carefully in her mind and trying to figure out how she disappeared. Her son, Jimmy, who looked sullen as he leaned forward and stared down at the ground as he puffed on a cigarette, had been sitting down after the detective rejected his offer to help find the one he loved.

"Look, I can help. Just let me! Please! I remember exactly what she looks like!" he pleaded insistently, nearly losing his temper. The detective and investigators shook their heads and dismissed the claims, having investigated his trailer that morning.

"This is highly sensitive police work. Whenever there is a missing person, the most we can do is post a reward for returning the missing person," he said.

"She is _not_ an object! She has no price!" he snapped.

"Better watch it, boy, or _you_ will be put away," the police officer said in a demeaning tone. He made his leave, and had been angry ever since. _Someone will pay. I don't care who it is, they will suffer_, he thought.

By sunset, the search parties and their dogs had scoured almost every part of the woods nearby, while other search parties looked all over town to find Britta without any results. Every hour, they brought the used garments to the dogs' noses to refresh their memories, but within 45 minutes, a dog started to bark incessantly, trailing his nose along the grassy terrain. His strong little neck tugged on the leash that held him and nearly started to run once he picked up a scent.

"Hey, boy! Slow down! What did you find?" a young man in the search party asked the canine. Soon, one dog after another barked and led the people in the search party down a trail of sorts, where bare footprints were found. The person's feet were quite small, and judging by the shoes found in Jimmy's trailer, they looked identical.

"Oh my god, look! Footprints!" the detective called out, taking a clear photo of it. The police officer looked down and saw them in great detail, jotting down notes.

"Barefoot in the woods? Never heard of it," he said. The detective glanced over and saw new footprints from shoes of various sizes, but the one that stuck out the most was that resembling the bottom of a very large boot.

"Seems like a chase was happening," the detective observed, taking more pictures.

"I think someone tried to chase her down," the police officer hypothesized. "But I still don't get why she was in the woods that early in the morning."

"Sleepwalking?" the detective insinuated.

"No," the police officer said.

"That's her!" a voice called out.

In a rush, the detective and his partner sprinted down toward the search party, looking beyond the young man's shoulder to reveal the sight of a steep hill covered with thick twigs, stray branches on trees, rocks of all shapes and sizes, thick bushes, and they lead to a large, but shallow pond where the sound of crickets and grasshoppers lurked. A few yards away from the hill was Britta's lifeless body, half submerged in the murky, algae-filled water with her face up and her lemon yellow dress, now tattered and filthy, floating about like a half-deflated balloon. Her left temple was very bloody, and some even got in the water. The detective gasped and looked at the search party, who tried to make their way down the steep hill and into the water safely.

"Don't just stand there! Get her!" he shouted, directing them to move faster and recover her body from the pond.

Getting their pants and shoes wet, the men in the search party pulled her up, one grabbing her top with one grabbing her feet, setting her down on a tan blanket gently. One of the men, a medical professional, put on gloves and looked down to examine her briefly for surface injuries, but the only thing he could find was an impact wound on her left temple that had been bleeding for quite some time. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and her hair was terribly disheveled. He firmly pressed his fingers to the side of her throat to feel her pulse; he didn't feel anything.

"Is she dead?" the detective asked.

"I don't feel any pulse. Hold on, let me try this," the man said, holding up her small, thin arm to feel her heavily-scarred wrist—he felt a faint pulse after thirty seconds.

"Ok, now I feel one. It's quite faint." He lowered the side of his head to her nose, but didn't feel or hear breathing, but he put his hand on her chest to see if it rose and fall—it did, but it was very shallow. "We have to get her to the hospital. Immediately." 

Back at the freak show grounds, Elsa had stopped crying but was still very upset, as was Jimmy and the rest of the carnies. Ethel, who sat with her son, looked at him and empathized with him as she got worried herself. He looked back at her, his temper in his voice.

"What?" he snapped.

"I just hope she's ok, son," she told him, looking down at her cup of boxed liquor.

"I swear, I will kill whoever took her," Jimmy hissed, feeling his blood boil and burn. Eve, who sat with them, patted Jimmy on the back and nodded, tears dried to her face from crying earlier that afternoon.

"We will find her," she told him softly.

Soon, the sound of a phone rang, catching Elsa's attention in her grand suite-styled tent. She ran over to the telephone, sitting down with her cigarette in the other hand as she picked up the receiver.

"_Hallo_?" she answered.

"Yes, is this Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities?" the voice, a man, asked. "This is the Jupiter Police Department."

"_Ja_! What happened?" she cried, frantically smoking her cigarette.

"We have found Britta, but…" His voice trailed off, and her tension worsened. "She is in critical condition."

"She's _alive_?!"

"Yes, but in critical condition. We, along with the doctors, found a head injury near her left temple. She was administered CPR upon arrival at the hospital, and Dr. Michael Webster examined her head. He is a brain specialist, and he did not find any internal injury in her brain. It was mostly on her skull," the cop explained.

"_Gott sei dank_!" she exclaimed, crying tears of joy. "May we visit her? Please?"

"I'm afraid you can't do that," the cop said. "She is still unconscious. You won't be able to talk to her."

"_Sheisse_," she muttered. "Well…is there any hope?"

"Sure there is. If she wakes up, that is," he said. "Have a lovely night, _fraulein_."

"_Danke_. Goodbye," she said, disappointed that he tried to rush her off the phone so quickly. She sighed and got up, moving rapidly out of her tent to venture toward the great tent, where everyone had been the entire day.

"Everyone! Be quiet!" she called, everyone falling silence via her request. "I have an announcement!"

"What is it?" Jimmy said, jumping up from his seat.

"Britta is alive! Oh _mein gott_, I'm so happy," she said with a smile.

"Well, let's go get her! What are we waiting for?!" the young man exclaimed, reaching his deformed hand toward his jacket and putting it on. His cap was resting on his head, and he put his mittens, which hid his hands, on.

"She is in the hospital! She is in critical condition, she's injured," Elsa told him.

"I'm going to see her," Jimmy resisted, getting fully ready before walking toward the entrance of the great tent. Elsa, Ethel, Eve, Paul and Dell ran after him to try and stop him.

"You can't! She's unconscious!" Elsa called out, waving her arms out.

"Get back here!" Ethel called out. Dell kept trying to chase him, but within a few minutes, Jimmy rushed on his motorcycle and revved the motor to get it going. Dell raised his fist and looked at him furiously.

"Get back here! She says you can't go!" he shouted.

"And_ I_ say I _can_!" he shouted back before steering forward into the twilight. The breeze blew on his face as he sped down the hard terrain and onto the road, making his way to the hospital to finally see her.


	17. Chapter 17

Upon arrival at the hospital, Jimmy got off his motorcycle and parked it next to a run-down car, kicking down the stand and running toward the main entrance and down the hall, intimidating a few nurses who were going about their business. He stopped at the end of the corridor and looked around, going up a flight of stairs before running to the main desk, where three nurses and medical billing specialists sat either on the phone or filling out paper work.

"Excuse me," he called out, placing his gloved, deformed hands on the desk.

"What's the matter?" a nurse asked.

"There's someone here…" He struggled to catch his breath from all the running he did. "Her name is Britta Nordlund, and she was put here because of a head injury. Where is her room?"

"Down the hall to your left," the same nurse said.

"Thank you so much," Jimmy said, continuing to sprint down the hallway to where she directed him. Once he got to the left hallway, he slowed down and took a few breaths, looking into the open or ajar doors to try and identify who was Britta in one of the beds. In one of the rooms was a dying old man who was surrounded by his close family, and another room was a child who had broken their arm during reckless horseplay. Then there was a closed door with a nurse in front of it, writing on a clipboard as a piece of her brown hair fell out of her bun. Jimmy approached her and watched her.

"Miss?" he asked.

"Oh, yes?" She looked up at him, and he noticed she had an accent. Her large, slightly slanted eyes, a piercing blue shade, met with his as she fixed her fallen strand back into her hair.

"Who's in this room?" he asked, reaching for the doorknob.

"Are you here to visit, sir?" she asked politely, looking at him. Jimmy couldn't really keep his eyes off her—she was indeed very pretty, with full lips, high cheekbones, and her piercing, slightly slanted blue eyes. Her accent, definitely European, sounded similar to Britta's.

"Yeah," Jimmy said.

"Is it Britta Nordlund?" she asked.

"Yes," he said definitively. "May I go in?"

"She is still unconscious," she told him. "She's been that way ever since she came. You can still go and see her, though."

"Thank you so much, miss!" he exclaimed, opening the door and making his way to chair beside the hospital bed.

He pulled up the chair and looked down at Britta, whose hair, previously mangled and filthy, had been washed and neatened out upon coming out of her examination by brain specialist Dr. Michael Webster. A bandage had been placed where the wound was on the side of her left temple, and it was evident that a bump had formed where she hit her head against the rock on the way down the steep hill in the forest. Her arms had some heavy bruising, especially near where her elbows were from trying to break her own fall against what he hit on the way down. Jimmy sighed, looking down at her lifeless, sleeping body and took her hand in his; he was careful as to not detach the IV line that connected her to a bag of medication hanging on a tall rod.

"Britta…" he muttered under his breath. "I hope you can hear me. It's Jimmy. I…I hope you'll be alright. I'm so worried, and I…I love you so much."

Just when he finished his sentence, an older man in a lab coat with pens in his pockets entered the room with a briefcase. He looked down at Jimmy, glasses framing his small gray eyes and part of his comb-over falling backward. It was as silver as the moon being full, and he cocked an eyebrow up at the young man.

"Hey, haven't I seen you before? What are you doing here?" the man asked. "I am Dr. Michael Webster, by the way." He extended his hand, and Jimmy's gloved hand shook it politely.

"Oh, I'm Jimmy Darling. I'm here to visit her," he said proudly, a smile as he held Britta's hand.

"Oh, I must've seen you in the freak show. I went with my daughter and son in-law a few months ago. You guys introduced a new act, and she made things float," he explained, a didactic tone in his voice as he set his briefcase on the table and opened it to retrieve a stethoscope.

"Yeah, uh…I am in the freak show. This girl here is the one you're talking about," Jimmy said. The man gasped, looking down at Britta's lifeless face.

"Oh, I remember now," he sighed sadly. "The poor thing…the police found her and called an ambulance to where she was found, apparently. Then they took her here to the ER and I examined her. She was in pretty bad shape."

"How so, doctor?"

"Well, she was filthy head to toe. Covered in algae and just…gross stuff you find in a pond," the doctor replied, putting the earpieces of the stethoscope in.

"A pond? Really? Did she drown?" Jimmy asked, deep concern and worry in his voice.

"Luckily, no," he said. He moved the flap of her hospital gown aside and placed the diaphragm on her chest, hearing that her heart rate was slightly faster than when she was first examined. He then proceeded to move to over the sides of her chest, hearing that her breathing was extremely shallow, yet also more normal than when he first examined her upon arrival at the hospital.

"Is she ok?" Jimmy asked, his hand still holding Britta's. The doctor took the stethoscope out of his ears and put it over his neck as if it were a neck tie.

"Well, her breathing and heartbeat have improved slightly in the past hour or so," the doctor said, looking down at her head wound and, with a gloved hand, felt around the bump that had formed from her impact against the rock.

"And her head?"

"There's a bump up here, and when I first examined her, she was bleeding. Apparently at the scene, the investigators saw some blood in the water from such profuse bleeding, which is common with most head injuries," the doctor explained.

"Oh no!" Jimmy exclaimed, looking down at Britta's lifeless body as it rested in the hospital bed. He frowned slightly, but his face looked somewhat angry—who had done this to her?

"However, the good news is that I did not see any damage to her brain. It was really just that part of her skull. Due to the shape of the wound, she was most likely hit by a rock," he said.

"Wouldn't that kill you?" Jimmy asked.

"It depends on where it hits you. We are fortunate it wasn't a heavy blow. Then, she would be in trouble," the doctor said. "If she wakes up, we are going to have to see how she is as far a speech, memory, and movement goes."

"Oh. I just hope she's alright, though. When we first heard the news, we were all afraid. Even I was, you know?" the young man said.

"I understand completely. We are thankful she is alive, but we will be even more grateful if she wakes up in the next few days," the doctor said, extending his hand. "I should take my leave, and you should as well. Leave her to rest. It was wonderful to meet you in person."

"You, too, doctor," Jimmy smiled. As the doctor left, he remained in his seat and looked down at Britta, hoping she would wake up miraculously and hold him close, remembering who he was. However, he stayed for a half an hour and stared down at her worriedly. When he finally left the hospital, he leaned down and kissed her cheek gently.

"I love you," he whispered before leaving the room.

He rode on his motorcycle back to the grounds of the freak show, and the darkness of night had already taken over Jupiter as the breeze picked up and blew against his leather jacket as he zoomed down the road. Upon arrival, the carnies came out of the great tent, having just had dinner consisting of bread and beef stew, and greeted him. Elsa stood there wearing her luxurious black silk bathrobe with a feather-like trim around the opening of it.

"You've returned," she said.

"Yeah?"

"Did you get to see her?" Elsa asked, following him into the great tent while the other carnies retired to their tents, caravans, or trailers for the night. Jimmy walked in and got some of the food that was served, although it was cold. He was hungry, and didn't care. Elsa sat across from him, and watched him scarf down bites of his food like a feriocious animal.

"Slow down, _leibling_," she encouraged. "So tell me, how was she?"

"She didn't wake up," Jimmy said with a full mouth as he washed it down with a swig of wine.

"What do you mean?" she asked worriedly.

"I mean, she hasn't woken up_ yet_," he said, having swallowed his food. "The doctor came in and checked her out. She's got better breathing…and heart rate…and…he seems optimistic that she'll wake up."

"_Wunderbar_," Elsa said with a smile. "I hope she gets better soon, but in the meantime, the show must go on."

Jimmy stopped eating and looked at her with disbelief—is that all she cared about, the show for which she had been the ringleader for so long? What about her well-being as a person? What about the potential that she could have never woken up at all and died from her injury? Did she even care that if she were to survive and wake up to fully recover that she could lose her telekinetic powers? Or what about her still having powers, but they did more harm than good? Was she serious right now? In frustration and anger, Jimmy dropped his spoon and rose from his seat, charging his way out of the great tent with Elsa following him.

"Where are you going?" she called out. "Answer me when I talk to you." He turned around briskly and met her at eye level, careful to not be so aggressive.

"I'm_ tired_ of answering to you, Elsa!" he exclaimed. "I'm tired of you treating us like monkeys! We are not objects you can just display in a show! We have _feelings_! We're _people_, just like everyone else in this damn town!"

"Watch your tone with me!" Elsa hissed. "I gave you a home, food, a family! Hell, I even pay you a good salary! You were young when you came here! You didn't even have a say."

"But I'm twenty-two now, I'm grown up! I'm not a kid anymore! I may not know much in this crazy world, but—"

"You don't _belong _out in this crazy world! It won't be the same as the home you have here!" Elsa argued. "The pinheads would be lost without someone to guide them; Paul wouldn't be able to find work with his short arms! And you, your hands are deformed. You can't find a job like that! You won't be able to support yourself!"

"I can support myself just _fine_, if I wanted to!" Jimmy barked. "I could be fixing motorcycles, and actually doing something with my life. Hell, if I could afford college, I would have gone when I had the chance!"

"You did have another job, or should I say, _hobby_," she sneered.

"I stopped that _months _ago, Elsa," he said aggressively. "I stopped because I know there was hope with Britta. You know…" He looked down at her, and she listened to every word he said as he whispered with agitation. "_I_ was the one after shows who prevented people from mobbing her for autographs and stupid levitation requests. _I_ was one of the first people to actually make her feel welcome here, trying to understand what she was saying with broken English._ I_ am the one reason he has come to trust someone, and that someone is _me_, and I'm fine with that even if I am the only one she can tell anything to. Do you even realize how hard of a life she lived before being locked up for three years? Do you even stop to think how you treat her like some puppet for your own benefit? Do you ever wonder how she feels when going on a stage like this one? She's nervous, for God's sake! She doesn't want to be paraded around like some trophy. She wants to be treated like a person."

Elsa had tears in her eyes from the truthful soliloquy that came from his own heart. She wiped them away and sighed, looking down at the feathers that made up the front of her bathrobe. Jimmy, who was careful not to reveal too much about his love's past, shook his head looking down at Elsa—they seemed to empathize with each other's worry for Britta.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, among the hustle and bustle of the graveyard shift hours, Britta was still unconscious, and at about quarter past 11, a nurse had come in one more time to check the young woman's vitals and drew some blood from her IV to be tested. In the coming hours of the early morning, nurses who passed by her closed door could've sworn they heard moans of pain and agony.


	18. Chapter 18

A nurse had passed by at about 4:00 that morning, and hearing the moans of pain and agony, opened the door and entered the room to see the patient sitting up slightly in the hospital bed with both hands on the top of her head. It turns out that the sounds were real, and the patient was even crying and sobbing as she suffered from the excruciating feeling of her brain swimming among the fluid in her head. The bandage had been on her head and covered the bump that had formed only halfway, and she had indeed woken up from her unconscious state.

"Miss?" the nurse asked in her soft Southern twang, walking toward her hospital bed and leaning down to check on her. "Are you alright?"

"It…it hurts…so bad…my head…" the girl cried in her thick Swedish intonation, tears continuing to fall down her cheeks as she wept in pain.

"You can speak. Do you remember what happened?" The nurse looked down at her and tried to make out her speech.

"I cannot remember…I hope I can…I…I do not know what happened," the young woman said. "My…arms and legs hurt, also."

"I think you may have taken a bad fall," the nurse said. "Can I put on the light so I can check your head?"

There was not an answer from the girl as the nurse followed suit with her own task by flicking the light switch on and proceeding to remove the bandage on the side of her temple. Looking at the wound and how it had been stitched closed by Dr. Webster, it looked as though a scab formed to begin the healing process. The nurse proceeded to clean the wound with a saline solution with salt, water, and disinfectant before applying new gauze on it with a special kind of tape. The girl looked downward before resting her head back on the pillow, the nurse looking down at her with her hand over the patient's forehead.

"Do you remember your name?" she asked. The patient took a breath, her vivid green eyes rolling themselves as they stared at the ceiling. She was thinking, until she was pretty sure she had an answer. In the meantime, the nurse looked down at her clipboard with the patient's correct name.

"B-Britta…" she said, trilling her 'r' really strong.

"Yes, very good; and do you know your last name?" the nurse asked, looking down at the patient's name on the clipboard. Her feet were getting tired standing there, but she had been tired anyways from working all night. The girl's eyes shut so tightly that her head hurt even more, shaking her head.

"I do not know," she said.

"We'll tell Dr. Webster when he comes in at 8:00 this morning. He will call your family, darlin'. Hang in there, alright? Try to rest?" The nurse left the room, and Britta turned her head to look out the window, the crescent moon glowing in the sky and illuminating the parking lot of the hospital.

Meanwhile, at the grounds of the freak show, the carnies woke up at their own paces and freshened up to face the new day. Elsa, who woke up the earliest, was awoken by a phone call that brightened her day. It was from Dr. Michael Webster, the brain specialist, with the good news about Britta.

"One of my nurses reported that she _did_, in fact, wake up earlier this morning," he told the German woman over the phone.

"_Gott sei dank_! That is _wunderbar_! When can we visit her!?" she exclaimed excitedly, jumping up from her bed and pulling her comforter off.

"Well, that depends," the doctor said.

"What do you mean?" she asked with frustration.

"We need to test her and make sure her speech and memory is on point, as well as watch her progress. The detective from the scene where they found her also needs to question her when her memory comes back so he can learn what happened," the doctor explained.

"Name a day and time, and I will be there to see her," Elsa offered, taking out a piece of paper.

"I can think of Thursday, January 7th," the doctor said.

"That's a week away!" Elsa exclaimed. "I demand to see her sooner!"

"Does Tuesday the 5th sound better?" he asked.

"_Ja_," Elsa said.

"Have a good day, ma'am," the doctor said. They each hung up, and at breakfast in the great tent a few hours later, Dell sat at the head of the table. Elsa was late coming to join the others, and Jimmy looked at her, speculating why she had been so late. He had been a couple minutes late himself because he had just bathed and put on fresh clothing, and Dell rose from his seat.

"Did you get any news?" he asked.

"_Ja_, I did. Britta woke up last night," she said, walking toward her place at the other end of the table. Jimmy rose from his seat, but before he could fully come to his feet, Elsa pointed at him with a sharp look in her soft hazel eyes.

"Jimmy! Before you even think of leaving, the doctor was the one who called me. Dr. Webster said that no one is allowed to visit until Tuesday, the earliest. They need to test her memory, speech, and other things. They also need to question her, well, the police, so that they know what happened," Elsa explained sternly. Jimmy rolled his eyes and groaned, sitting back in his chair and looking at her spitefully.

"These doctors are crazy with their shit," he said. "I just want to see her."

"You will, Jimmy," Ethel said, who was sitting right next to him as she patted his shoulder. "Just be patient. It's only a few days."

"I don't wanna wait anymore," he said. "I was there last night, and she wasn't awake. Now that she's awake, they won't let us see her. It's bullshit."

Everyone ignored his rant as they continued to have their French toast, bacon and eggs, prepared by Pepper and Amazon Eve, who also continued to eat their morning meal. Dell was reading a newspaper and drinking black coffee, while his wife Desiree sat diagonally from him in the front seat over. Pepper and Salty were laughing and muttering at each other, and Jyoti was sitting on the table eating her fix. Jimmy, upset at the circumstances and that no one had the sense to do anything about it, did not touch a single bit of his food, and when Elsa, Eve, Pepper, and Jyoti proceeded to do their morning chores of laundry and cleaning, he snuck on his motorcycle after filling up on gas and sped off to go to town.

Instead of going to the hospital, he went to the diner in the center of town and just got some black coffee, toast that ended up being overdone, and some scrambled eggs. The waitresses and cooks, who usually treated him badly, paid him no mind, and it wasn't like any families already eating there had left the restaurant—his hands had been gloved, his cap was on, and his leather jacket was over him as he ate his food quietly. He was unrecognizable, well, at least for a little while.

The sound of the diner's doors open and high heels hitting the linoleum floor didn't even make him turn his head out of curiosity to see who it was. However, when the presence came closer and sat next to him and started to order her food, he glanced over and pretended not to notice that it was actually Maggie Esmeralda.

"I would like a veggie omelet with some orange juice, please," she said. Jimmy rolled his eyes, his mood suddenly becoming sour as he struggled to ignore her presence. They had broken up such a long time ago, it seemed; she was deceitful and a liar above all things.

"Well, it's fancy seeing you here," Maggie said to him, seeing it had been Jimmy. He ignored her. "I'm talking to you."

"And I'm not," he snapped quickly, taking a sip of his black coffee and grimacing at the bitterness of it.

"Fine, then. I'm only trying to be nice," she said.

"Sure," Jimmy said, taking another bite of food and chewing it, washing it down with another swig of black coffee.

"She's going to die, you know," Maggie said.

"No, she is _not_! You're a liar! You have no idea what's going on," Jimmy said with frustration.

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because she woke up last night. Plus, you're a lying sack of shit," he retorted. "Go tell it to someone else, and learn to take no for an answer."

"Oh, I've already gotten over you," she said.

"Then why do you keep trying to talk to me?" he asked, shaking his head. "It's like you want me back, and it's pathetic. Get over it." With that being said, he paid his tab and left a $3 tip for the waitresses before storming out of the diner, getting on his motorcycle and revving it up to get him zooming back on the road.

Meanwhile, the young woman, the little boy, and the teenager who had been captives of Twisty and Dandy had all reported to the police what happened to them the moment they escaped the woods and the shack that the two clownish psychopaths had kept them in for their sick forms of entertainment. They had been kept in there for less than two years, as they were captured in October 1952. The young woman, while being questioned, was frantic and cried as she remembered the things they had done to scare them and instill fear into them. The little boy recalled a memory that included Twisty bringing back toys for him to play with in order for him to favor his crazy self in a way. The teenager remembered being kidnapped from his home while taunting his sister in her room—Twisty had escaped from a window in the sister's room. The young woman had witnessed her boyfriend being stabbed repeatedly when they were on a date together, just before he tried to propose marriage. The little boy mentioned that his parents were both killed brutally by the larger clown. Then, conversations about Britta took up their questioning.

"She was an angel," the young woman said, wiping her eyes. "She saved us, but I have not seen her since."

"Without her and her powers, we wouldn't have gotten out of that shack alive," the teenager said during his interview with another officer.

"She broke the ropes that tied us together with her mind," the teenager said. The cop laughed, not believing him.

"Sure she wasn't the one tied up?" the cop asked.

"I'm serious. She used her mind!" the teenager emphasized.

"Then she pushed the big clown away from us, and the other clown died. She made him choke," the little boy said when it was his turn to be interviewed by the cops. "She was like Glinda the Good Witch."

Their escape story as a whole seemed laughable—no one could possibly have powers like they described. However, all that changed when they went to Britta's hospital room that Monday, where a speech and memory pathologist checked her out and saw if she remembered any vital details of her life, such as her full name and birth date.

"What is your full name?" he asked softly, keeping a checklist of her progress.

"Britta Elisabeth Nordlund," she said in her Swedish intonation.

"Where and when were you born?"

"Visby, Gotland. June….June 3…June 3, 1935," she responded.

"What were your parents' names?" he asked. She took a moment to think before answering coherently.

"Hans and Frida…Frida Magnusdotter," she said.

"Were your parents married?" he asked.

"_Ja_," she said. "My mother…made two family names for herself."

"She hyphenated it?"

"_Ja_."

"What is your country of origin?"

"Sweden."

"When did you first learn English, Britta? Do you remember?" He waited patiently as she took a second to think. Now, the memories just kept coming back to her as if she were never injured to begin with.

"I was…in school. I did not learn very much," she replied. "When I came here, Miss Elsa hired a teacher for me. He was…uh…fired after."

"Who is Miss Elsa?" he asked.

"Elsa Mars," she said. "She…she is the…owner of the…show."

"The freak show?"

"_Ja_."

"Do you perform in the show?"

"Am I in it?" she asked; he nodded. "_Ja_."

"What do you do?" he asked. "What sets you apart from the others?"

"I…" She tried to remember, trying to focus on the apple that had been left on her pull-over table from breakfast. She tried to make it float, but it couldn't do so. She worried a lot, and closed her eyes to regain her focus. She concentrated a little more, and within three minutes, it started to wobble before floating up in the air as if a ghost had a firm hold over it. Britta smiled—her power had not left her, and she brought it over to her hand and grabbed it from the air.

"You…have telekinesis?" he asked.

"_Ja_," she said. "I was born with it."

"Ahh…" He sighed in thought, writing down everything she said. "Do…do you have friends at the camp? I mean, fellow performers?"

"I think so," she said.

"What are their names?" he asked as she took a bite from the apple and chewed it before swallowing it.

"Uh…I remember, I know I do," she said. "Uh…"

"Take your time. Try to remember their names," he encouraged. She sighed, trying to list off all the people she could remember.

"There is...Elsa…Jimmy…his mother…uh…Pepper….Eve….Jyoti…."

Little did Britta know that she was being watched—the pathologist had scheduled an appointment with her to analyze her speech and memory while the detective and his cop partner watched into the window on the top of the door and had seen her and the pathologist interact. They had even seen her levitate the apple and bring it over from the table she had eaten on for her meals. The detective watched her, and then knocked on the door to end their session together. The pathologist looked back and sighed, looking at Britta, whose awakened eyes looked curious as he excused himself and left the room to talk to the law enforcement officials.

"So, does she seem capable to answer our questions?" the detective asked.

"She does seem to know her past as if she never were injured to begin with…so yes, I would say so," he said, looking at the notes he took.

"Wonderful," he said, opening the door as he and his partner entered.

Upon seeing the uniformed men, Britta looked up at them and slinked back a little in fear, her eyes widened. He touched the side of her head, which was still bandaged, and the detective and his partner took out their badges to show and prove who they were.

"Detective Ralph Snow here," the detective said.

"Officer Howard Rowley of the Jupiter Police Department," the cop said. "You're Britta Nordlund."

"_Ja_?" she asked. "What is the reason you are here?"

"We have to ask you a couple of questions about what happened," Detective Snow stated, taking out a small memo notebook and jotting down notes.

"What happened?" Britta asked, forgetting she was kidnapped and that she had fallen.

"Ms. Nordlund, I don't think you are aware of how you were found," Officer Howard stated.

"I do not understand," she said.

"Just listen," the detective instructed; she did as told. "You were found on the night of January 1, just when sunset came. You were deeply unconscious in a pond, and Dr. Webster believes you may have hit your head while falling down a steep hill. Strangely, you were reported missing that same morning. Can you tell us more about what happened in the way that you remember?"

"Oh." Now she remembered, but the memories seemed to come as she explained more about what happened. "I…I remember going back to the bearded lady's home…on the grounds…then I felt a force on the back of my head. Someone hit me. I do not know who."

"I see," the detective said, jotting down her exact words. "Did you wake up?" Britta struggled to remember, but then she remembered the ghastly, filthy interior of the shack that she, the young woman, the teenager and young boy were kept.

"I remember…ugh, it was a very ugly place," she said, trying to figure out how to say it in English. "There was…uh…stuff everywhere. It was ugly."

"Garbage?" he asked.

"_Ja_, a lot of that," Britta said. "I remember…I woke up with…" She put her hands and legs together to convey what she was trying to say, "my hands and feet…there was rope around them…"

"And then what happened?"

"I…" She had tears in her eyes as she tried to describe what happened, "was crying and screaming for help. The boy told me to be silent, but…I needed help."

"Why did he tell you to be silent?" the officer asked. Britta sighed, wiping her tears.

"He told me…that he would kill us," she told him.

"Who?"

"I cannot remember…I know…_I know_ who he was…I cannot think!" she cried

"Calm down, Ms. Nordlund. Just try to clear your mind and remember," the detective said to her, shushing her so she could talk coherently.

"I remember…we were in a cage. It was me…a…a woman…and two boys," Britta said. "The two…uh…what's the word…uh…clowns. _Ja_, clowns, they came in and…scared us a lot."

"Makeup or masks?" the detective asked.

"Uh…one of each. There were two," she said. "Although one wore white face paint and…a very…ugly mouth. He also was very…" She held her arms out to approximate Twisty's size, "fat."

"Describe the other one," he said.

"He looked stupid…he also dressed clownish with a full…" She waved her hand over her face to convey what she meant to say, "mask. He pulled it off…looked at me…and…I forget his name…"

"Did you see him before, Ms. Nordlund?" he asked.

"_Ja_. There was a party," she said.

"The New Year's Eve Gala?"

"_Ja_," she said. "He…had come up to me…and asked to dance…but I cannot dance well."

"So you met him there?"

"_Ja_," she said. "He was the man in the mask. He said…he wanted me to be his…wife and…" She squinted and tried to remember what he tried to do. "He took a long stick…and a knife…so…"

"The thing is, Ms. Nordlund, we were told by the young boy that you had killed this man in the mask," Detective Snow stated.

"_Nej_! I never killed him!" she exclaimed.

"They say you used your powers on them?" Officer Rowley cut in.

"I did," Britta said. "I did _not_ kill that man. I only made him," She thought of an English word to use, "faint."

"How did you do that?" Officer Rowley questioned. Both law enforcement officials continued to jot down every word she had said.

"I…well…used my mind to…put his hand to his throat. He choked," Britta explained.

"And the larger clown?"

"I used my mind to…push him toward the front window…he chased us," she answered.

"So you were chased, but how did you get out of the ropes that tied you up?" Officer Rowley asked.

"I broke them with my mind," she said. "I undid the woman's with my mind as well…she untied the other two…" She sighed, trying to remember. "I made the man faint…then we ran."

"Yes, tell us more about that," the detective encouraged.

"I kept running…the other three were…uh…going in their own directions…and the big clown chased us. I looked back to…see where he was, and I fell forward and down…then…I got…knocked out." Now it all made sense to the girl and why she had a minor head injury. She looked up at the police, who stared back at her; Officer Rowley kept writing notes.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Ja," she said.

"Well, thank you for your time," Detective Snow said. "Your memory was a great help."

As they left, Britta watched them and sighed; why had they disregarded the child's claims of her killing the man? Of course, they knew it was true that he was not dead. Britta was not capable of something like that in her own mind.


	19. Chapter 19

Dandy sat in his study, surprisingly wearing normal clothing, and was putting his homemade clown suit and mask in a trunk to hide away for when he needed it next. He took the small key to the lock and turned it, shutting the heavy box that included not only his costume, but clubs and sharp instruments such as knives, hedge clippers, and cleavers.

He thought for a moment and stood up from his chair, walking toward the entrance over the mini golf set and pushing aside a wooden rocking horse, opening to door to go down the spiral staircase into the front foyer where a glass chandelier hung ornately.

He walked down the hallway and opened the door to the basement, walking down the wooden stairs and making his way across the hard, cement floor before making his way to a cardboard box. He opened the flaps, seeing it had contained what he had saved from his mother's belongings after killing her. He even saved the knife, the blade stained with dried blood, he had used to stab her to death. Next to the knife was a black revolver, which had been used by his mother for protection purposes in her bedside table's drawer. He took it and opened the barrel to see if there were still bullets in the chamber—the gun had never been used. He got angry, his face turning red as tears formed in his eyes as he gripped the handle of the gun and thought of how powerless he was against Britta's telekinetic powers that made him choke himself.

"YOU STUPID WITCH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" he screamed out furiously.

The day after, Jimmy woke up early and took a bath, freshening up and making his way to Elsa's tent, seeing that she was applying makeup at her vanity. As she applied the lipstick methodically, she saw him in her reflection dressed in his leather jacket, matching cap, and gloves to hide his deformed hands. They had agreed to go to the hospital together to see Britta, but Elsa had intentions to discharge her and take her back to the grounds. Jimmy wanted her back, too, but if the doctor said she needed more time, he needed to follow suit with that if her condition was going to improve.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"_Ja_, I am now," Elsa said, turning around and proceeding to put her shoes on before going to meet the young man out by his motorcycle. They zoomed off, and Jimmy got irritated because every time he sped ahead, she complained about the wind.

"Slow down!" she ordered.

"We have to get there. I can't do anything about that," Jimmy replied. He ignored her complaints for the rest of the way, and once they made it to the hospital, he kicked down the kickstand and got off, helping the older German woman off the back of the seat.

"_Danke_," she said. "Do you remember where her room is?"

"Yeah, it on the second floor," he replied, walking alongside her.

Meanwhile, Britta had woken up to the nurse with large, piercing blue eyes with slightly slanted corners, high cheekbones, full lips, and soft brown hair drawing blood from her IV line and putting it a purple-capped vial. She looked up at the attractive nurse, who looked down into Britta's tired verdant eyes in kind.

"_God morgon_," the nurse said to the patient. "I hope you are feeling better." Shocked that there was another Swede in town other than her, she smiled slightly and looked down as she took blood from the IV.

"_Hej_," Britta said.

"I knew you were from Sweden, too. I looked at your name on your patient file," the nurse said in their language. "What part?"

"Visby," she replied. "I lived in both the north and south of Sweden, though."

"I'm from Uppsala," the nurse said, bottling the blood she collected in the vial. "I like it better here, though. Sweden is really boring."

"So, you became a nurse. How is it working out?" Britta asked, sitting up in her hospital bed.

"I'm an intern," she said. "I want to work with mothers and babies."

"A midwife?"

"_Ja_," the nurse said. "They're making me treat many kinds of patients for now in case I change my mind."

"But you still want to work with mothers and their babies?" Britta asked, looking up at the nurse.

"_Ja_. I love children," she said. "I cannot wait to get married." Britta smiled, looking out the window to the clear day that was among them. She thought of the idea of marriage; yes, she wanted to finally have children and have a husband, but she didn't want to rush into it too much. She looked at the nurse, who was writing down on her clipboard any observations she made about the patient. Then, she started to talk again.

"My name is Sigrid, by the way," she said politely.

"It's nice to meet you, miss," the blonde said.

The door opened to Jimmy and Elsa walking in. Sigrid, the nurse, smiled and nodded at their presence; however, without acknowledging her, he went straight to the chair by Britta' hospital bed and looked at her. She looked healthy as a horse, and she gazed over at him and smiled, her pearly whites making themselves known. Jimmy smiled back at her and held her hand.

"It's so good to see you," he said softly, reaching to move her golden hair away from her face.

"And you as well," Britta said.

"We've all missed you so much, especially me. You remember me, I hope," Jimmy joked.

"_Ja_," she said. How could she have forgotten? She looked at his handsome face, taking in every detail as she always did—his auburn-brown hair that was always slicked back with gel minus single curl in front of his forehead. He was wearing his leather cap and jacket, and his deformed hands were gloved with thick mittens; this made them warm to the touch, as Britta's hands felt cold and frigid.

"Will she be able to come home today?" Elsa asked the nurse.

"I will need to see with Dr. Webster about that," Sigrid said. "She is making good progress. She remembers more, and she even gave a good interview."

"To _who_?"

"The police. I heard they were here to ask her some questions," Sigrid replied.

"What happened?" Jimmy asked, the amalgam of concern and anger in his facial expression as he looked at both the nurse and Britta.

"I was not here for the interview. I just heard it from someone else who works here," Sigrid replied.

"Damn," Jimmy muttered quietly. He then looked up at Britta, her green eyes driving him crazy; he hadn't seen them in so long. He missed them. "Can _you_ tell me when we get out of here?"

"I will try," she said, nodding.

Within the next hour, Dr. Webster deemed it alright to send Britta home with Elsa and Jimmy. The pathologist and the doctor both debated before hand, weighing the pros and cons against each other as they bragged about each other's fields of expertise in their argument.

"She's in a freak show, I'm sure she'll be fine. _I'm_ the brain specialist here," Dr. Webster stated.

"What is she doesn't remember she is in a freak show?" the pathologist asked.

"She knows. Her memory has been improving everyday she's been here," the doctor replied.

"I don't know, doctor. She was hesitant before her police interview," the pathologist said, trying to make a point.

"But they said she did fine," the doctor said. "It was a skull injury,_ not_ her brain."

"But, doctor! Don't you see she was knocked unconscious for a while? That was enough time to make her not remember anything," the pathologist claimed. "The impact _did_ affect her brain."

"She is leaving _today_," the doctor said emphatically, ending the argument. "That's final."

Elsa called over a taxi as soon as Britta's discharge papers were signed, and with Jimmy following it on his motorcycle, Elsa was in the backseat with the young Swede, who was still dressed in her hospital gown because the dress she had was ruined beyond repair; Elsa also had not brought her any clothing. She looked over at her, and noticed that her face was weary, her skin so pale she couldn't see the light freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose.

"Are you alright, _leibling_?" Elsa asked.

"_Ja_," Britta replied, looking out the window.

"Will you tell me what happened?" she asked, moving closer to her on the seat. Britta now remembered very well what happened, but she only wanted to tell Jimmy; he was the only one she trusted, so she fibbed to the older German woman.

"I…am too…tired to remember," she said.

"Very well," Elsa said.

They arrived at the grounds, where the carnies were going about their daily chores and doings, and were greeted by them as Elsa and Britta got out of the taxi and Jimmy parked his motorcycle. Pepper and Salty laughed and clapped with joy, and Eve, Ethel, Jyoti, and Bette and Dot all came to the Swede and greeted her. Paul, Dell, Desiree, and the other carnies stayed put and watched from a distance, the sunny, clear day brightening everyone up more.

"Are you alright?" Bette asked sweetly.

"_Ja_, _tack_," Britta replied.

"You're back," Ethel said.

"_Verdammt_! Don't crowd her!" Elsa snapped. She looked at Ethel, and the bearded lady knew exactly what to do.

"Alright, let's get 'er done," she said.

She took the girl's hand and led her up the steps of her caravan. Britta remembered the surroundings as soon as she entered, the image of the purple-tinted walls and the lounge sofa she had slept on during her entire time there. She sat down, watching as Ethel reached into her chest of personal belongings and pulled out undergarments and a simple beige dress with long sleeves and a button up front with a belted, cinched waist. Seeing the dress reminded her of the first day she had come to America and set foot on foreign soil, wearing a dress similar in style that Elsa had found in the closet at Konradsberg along with a tight pair of simple shoes that were on the floor next to it as it hung on the rack.

"Here," Ethel said, giving her fresh clothing. "Take yourself a bath before puttin' these on."

"Ja," Britta said, going into the bathroom and turning on the warm water.

She stripped down and stepped into the water, sitting down before giving her body a thorough, head-to-toe washing. As she ran the lavender-scented soap over her fair, smooth skin, every memory she ever had while being a part of Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities came to her mind—the morning she was taken to the diner by Jimmy; how she was taken on a shopping trip by Elsa and some of the other carnie women; her debut performance for which she was nervous as all hell but managed to wow the audience by levitating not only a few balls, but a tomato that was chucked at her; how she had become so well-loved and popular among the other carnies and the public; how shy she was when Elsa first heard her singing, albeit in Swedish; the moment she shared her troubled past with Jimmy…but just then, memories of her past in Sweden began to haunt her again.

"_Using the Devil's power in our household? Damn you, child!" _

"_We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don't think you want the hard way."_

"_Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."_

"_I hope the priest can pardon your sins, you little witch!"_

"_Stay down here until we tell you to come out. Freeze for all I care."_

Strangely, the memories stopped just before Britta could scream and shout to express her disdain at the memories and what she had gone through; then came memories of her biological parents, Hans and Frida, which were much happier in comparison to those with the Kallstrom family, obviously. Their faces came to her as clear as day; Frida, her mother, had passed her beauty onto her daughter. She had light blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and fair skin. Unlike Britta, she was much taller, at least five foot six, and was much more voluptuous with wide hips, generous thighs, and full breasts. Britta remembered watching her do needlepoint as a little girl, and was amazed by what designs she could do with thread and a needle.

Her father, Hans, was built just like a farmer—he was very tall and muscular, his shoulders wide and broad. He had a beard as brown as his hair, and his eyes were a bluish-gray shade; his skin was tanned from being out in the sun all day with his laborers working the land they owned. Even though his beard was somewhat thick, his chiseled face was very distinct, and he spoke with a booming, but kind voice. As soon as she started to walk, she would run around the farm and chase the chickens, goats, and horses—Hans loved that his daughter was playful, but he tried his hardest to keep her inside with her mother, who would often do business with the people in town by sewing dresses for parties or making decorative tapestries or samplers. Britta, still in the tub, sighed as she rinsed herself off and got out of the bathtub and her reverie, drying off and putting on the clothes that Ethel had chosen for her. She then proceeded to dry her hair with the towel before brushing and braiding it.

She walked out of the caravan, and walked down the steps as her eyes tried to remember and find Jimmy's trailer. Seeing the title "_LOBSTER BOY: The Amazing Jimmy Darling in Person_", she remembered and walked toward the door, knocking on the wooden part. Footsteps approached, and the door opened to Jimmy, who smiled at her and welcomed her in.

"You don't have to knock," he said, holding her close. "You can come in anytime you want, doll." He kissed her softly, and she reciprocated it, remembering that she missed the feeling of his lips and his embrace. She felt his hand trail down from the small of her back down to her butt, and he gave it a playful squeeze, causing her to inadvertently break their kiss.

"Oh," she said, blushing as her eyes widened for a split second. "Alright."

"Well…you were gonna tell me something, huh?" Jimmy asked, going to sit on the sofa with Britta, who followed suit.

"Was I?"

"Yeah. Oh, I remember now," he said, leaning back and looked at her as he got comfortable. "What happened that caused you to hit your head?"

"Ooh," she said, trying to remember everything that had happened, and she began to tell him—it was no laughing matter.


	20. Chapter 20

She explained every part of the ordeal she had gone through and how she remembered it, beginning with how she felt a bonk on the back of her head that knocked her out as she made her way to Ethel's caravan. Jimmy was in shock to know that she had left, but then he realized that she was too shy to own up to the fact that they had made love in his trailer—strangely and unbeknownst to Britta, the carnies were open with each other about all kinds of experiences, even the carnal ones.

"Oh my god, who did that?!" Jimmy exclaimed, getting bent out of shape after hearing she was hit on the head.

"I will get to that…just listen," Britta said.

So she continued; she described how filthy and cluttered the shack was, how there had been three other captives in the large cage with her and how she had been bound at the wrists and ankles. She then went on to describe the two men in clown suits and how one was smaller than the other. Twisty was the larger one with a dirty costume, bald head with horn-looking appendages attached, and a very scary mouth piece to hide his deformed mouth. Then, she described the other clown in detail and how, when he removed his mask, she knew who it was.

"It was the man from…the party," she said, tears having formed in her eyes as she cried in distress from the thoughts. Jimmy, his blood boiling for revenge, clenched his fists and got even angrier and angrier as she described him.

"Dandy!" he hissed. "That fucking asshole!"

"The police…they interviewed me in the…hospital and I could not…I could not remember his name," she said, her broken English shown through her crying as she covered her face with her hands.

"Dandy Mott is his name! Goddamn it!" he shouted. He wasn't particularly angry at her, but he also thought that maybe had she remembered his name, he would be caught and made a suspect in her kidnapping. He got up and made his way to the speed bag, but Britta stood up and put her hand out, inadvertently stopping him.

"Jimmy, I…I saved them!" she exclaimed.

"What?" He approached her rapidly and looked down into her eyes, taking a breath as his countenance remained angry looking.

"I...I saw him try to tie a sharp point to a stick to stab us…then I floated the point at him…I pushed the clown away…I broke our ropes…I meant to focus on untying them but they broke…the young woman untied everyone else…then…" Britta struggled to remember what happened next—this was quite a challenge.

"What did he do to you, Britta?" Jimmy persisted.

"I choked him," she replied.

"How?"

"I made him choke…I made his arm float up…and grab his own neck…" She tried to explain it, but it was hard for her to do so because she was crying so hard; Jimmy held her close and sighed as she continued.

"I…could have…killed him, but I could not bring myself…to do that," she said. "He fainted…knocked out…and we ran…"

"Wow," Jimmy muttered in his despondent, vengeful voice. "But then…what about your head? How did you hit it? Can you remember that?"

"We ran…the big clown got up and chased us…I looked back…then I fell down a steep hill and got knocked out," she told him.

"The doctor told me that a rock may have hit you," he said, shaking his head. "Britta…you're here. Safe. With me. You're safe now."

"How can I…be sure?" she asked. "Do people…not like me?"

"It isn't that," he said, looking down into her intense green orbs. "People are sick, Britta. You, of all people, would know that for a fact. Now, _I_ do. I feel…oh god!"

"What? Tell me!" She gazed up at him, trying to decipher the emotions in his face.

"I _need _to protect you," Jimmy said fiercely. "Even if I die trying."

"Do not die…for me. I got out…the others did as well…I am alive," she told him, hands on the sides of his muscular upper arms.

"I know you are capable of defending yourself, but I cannot take the chance of you getting hurt._ Ever_. I love you too much, Britta. I love you_ too_ much to let you fight alone," he said, cupping her cheek gently with fire in his deep brown eyes. She looked up at him, his words touching her heart. No one had ever been this way to her before; protective, loving, fiercely devoted to keeping her safe from harm.

"He will pay _dearly_ for what he's done," Jimmy stated, fire in his voice. "That is a promise, damn it."

"I already made him suffer," she told him directly.

"Letting him just live like that isn't good enough," he said, not trying to criticize that she saved herself. "_No one_ fucks with someone I care about and gets away with it."

A police vehicle was driving down a secluded road in the outskirts of town. Detective Snow was in the passenger seat and Officer Howard Rowley was driving the car with backup on speed dial on the radio. Out beyond the blind side of the car was a large figure walking down the road holding a sack in his hand. The detective looked closer, seeing that he was heavy set and wearing a balloon-like, white outfit. He turned to his partner and took out the camera, taking a photo of the sight he was seeing.

"Slow down," he said. "I think this is the guy."

"Oh my," the officer said, doing as told as he got a better look at him.

He was actually dressed head to toe in a filthy white clown suit with three furry horns on the top of his bald, makeup-covered head that was as white as his face. Over his eyes was pitch black makeup. On his costume were huge neck frills trimmed with red satin and there were a series of pompom "buttons" down the front of his costume; also, there were little slits with blood in them, possibly from when Britta tried to force him away into a window in the shack they kept her and the other captives in. His most distinguishing feature was what covered his mouth—a grotesque half-mask that gave off the appearance of an abnormally large, creepy smile. Remembering this was Britta's exact description in her interview, he rolled down the window and got an extremely close look, whistling although he was scary enough to scare the Devil himself.

"Are you going to a party, Mr. Clown?" Detective Snow asked. Twisty looked back, still holding the sack in his hands. He was not talking.

"Entertaining little kids?" The detective then looked over at the officer and whispered. "Call for backup, this is him!"

Within minutes, sirens were heard, and three cruisers zoomed to the scene where Detective Snow was keeping the scary clown distracted. Upon seeing the police cruisers and all the law enforcement officials coming out of them with guns, including the detective and his partner, and preparing handcuffs.

"_FREEZE_!" a cop shouted. Twisty didn't respond, but when he tried to run into the woods, several officers ran fast enough to tackle the clown and confiscate the sack he had been holding, which had dropped, and cuff not only his wrists, but ankles.

"You are under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder," Detective Snow declared as the officers brought Twisty to his feet to bring him back to one of the cars. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." In the meantime, one of the police looked down into the sack and saw a sharp butcher knife and two clubs.

"Look what we have here. Better send these to the evidence department," the officer said.

"Very good, sir," Detective Snow said before getting back in the passenger seat—Officer Rowley began to drive; Twisty was in the back and said nothing, just staring forward into the windshield window.

The following day, Dandy was in his child playroom-like study when he read his daily copy of the Jupiter Times, the headline reading "_Killer Clown Caught: Police Have Yet To Catch Another_". Upon seeing the title, she gasped and read the first few phrases the newspaper had written about the event:

"_Yesterday, a prime suspect in the kidnapping of four Jupiter residents has been taken into custody, says Detective Ralph Snow of the Jupiter Police Department. He was shown to be mute, but highly dangerous_."

"DAMN YOU!" He crumpled up the newspaper, and in a rage, got up from his chair and stormed down his spiral staircase to the sky blue color-schemed living room, where he sat in front of the fireplace and placed wood on top of each other before taking his lighter to the newspaper. He tossed it in, and a fire formed in the hearth to consume the flimsy, grayish-white paper. He stared into the flames angrily, as they reflected his dark heart inside, and tears began to form in his eyes. The police had taken his only companion, and he shook his head as his fists clenched.

"Damn you, you Swedish cow! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" He screamed bloody murder, letting his fury out into the air around him. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

He got up, trying to calm down as he made his way down the basement, his leather oxfords making sounds against the cold, cement floor. He walked over to where he had locked up his clown suit and weapons, which was a wooden trunk, grabbing the key in his pocket to open it and reveal his frighteningly bright get-up. He looked down at the mask, and had a dreadfully heinous plan in mind; he took the box of his dead mother's belongings and looked at the revolver he had positioned back on top of a folded silk red shawl that went with a dress that she had worn frequently to parties. Next to it was the rusted butcher knife, still stained with his mother's blood from when he murdered her, holding it by the handle in his free hand. He looked down at the unused revolver, and then back at the bloody knife, wondering what to use for his next victim.

At the police station that same day, Detective Snow and his partner finally took Twisty in for a full-fledged interrogation—the psychopath had been silent for the first two hours, and despite their efforts to make him remove his half-mask, he did not answer or mumbled incoherently. The detective, taken by hunger and fatigue from the day's work up until that point, starting to get angry with the suspect.

"I'm going to ask ONE MORE TIME! TAKE OFF THAT MASK!" he shouted, banging his fist on the table. "_NOW_!"

Feeling fear for the first time in quite a while, Twisty followed suit and removed his half-mask slowly to reveal a grisly sight that made Officer Rowley and Detective Snow gasp in shock—the lower part of his face was practically missing. His lips and half of each cheek were gone, and it still bled as if a monster had come in during his sleep and eaten his face off. Even some of his teeth were missing, leaving only three on the top and one on the bottom. The brutal deformity smelled like putrefying flesh, making the detective and the officer gag uncontrollably—the stench filled the room, and the detective hid his nose and mouth under the lapel of his tweed suit coat.

"Ew!" the detective exclaimed as he gagged.

"Gross! What happened to you? Were you born like that?" the officer asked loudly, covering his nose and mouth with his bare hand. Twisty began to cry—the weakest part of him was now exposed, as was his murderous path after a seemingly 'human' life he had lived as a beloved children's clown.

"Can you talk?!" the detective asked, still aggravated.

"Yes," Twisty said, his slurred speech coming into manifestation as his tongue writhed to produce his voice.

"What did you do to those captives? Answer us!" the detective shouted, the loudness muffled by him covering his nose to prevent smelling the brutal odor.

"I wanted to make them happy," he slurred, his tongue moving like a thick snake in his missing mouth. "I was loved by people. The children all forgot about me. I made them happy."

"What do you mean? They didn't _seem_ happy. You killed that poor girl's boyfriend _and _not to mention the parents of that little boy. He has no parents now," Officer Rowley said, feeling a bit of pity for the poor clown.

"They were meeeaaannn. I gave them candy…" Twisty slurred, tongue still writhing like a disgusting worm to make him talk. The detective and his partner were both very confused—was this man unable to understand them?

"Ok, different approach," the detective said, standing up and releasing the lapel of his jacket although the interrogation room still smelled of brutal rotting flesh. "Why is your mouth so messed up?"

"I couldn't even kill myself," the clown slurred. "I came back to Jupiter after my momma died…I wanted to turn the garbage into gooolld."

"You're not answering us, clown, and we are losing our patience," Detective Snow stated, biting his lower lip and slamming his hand on he table. "What did you do to those poor people?!"

"Dandy and I entertained them…we put on a show," the clown slurred. Officer Rowley grimaced at the sight of his writhing tongue. "They had been stolen from me…so long ago."

"Wait, who stole the children from you?" Officer Rowley asked. Twisty's voice rose as he started to cry.

"THE FREAKS! THE FREAKS! THE EVIL, MEAN, SELFISH FREAKS!" the clown screamed, tears rolling from his eyes as dollops of heavy drool dripped from his open, wounded mouth.

"Officer? A little chat, please?" Detective Snow requested. Twisty was cuffed to the legs of the chair by his feet and his hands were cuffed separately to each other. "Don't you go anywhere."

Exiting the interrogation room and shutting the door tightly, the officer looked at the detective and shook his head doubtfully. How could they expect to get a straight answer out of the psychopath if he was talking in riddles with slurred speech because of his disgusting mouth?

"We can't do this," he said.

"Why not? This is _our _case," the detective replied.

"He appears to be retarded," the officer said. "If we are going to continue, we need a more effective approach."

"Aren't I the detective, here? Let's get real," Snow said.

"I _am_ being real. I'm serious. He doesn't even know what day it is!" Rowley stated.

"We have to think of something. He mentioned someone named 'Dandy,'" the detective recalled.

"Dandy…I can only think of one person. Dandy Mott, son of that woman who got butchered in her sleep a year or two ago." The officer thought about his theory, but then shook his head with disbelief. "Nah, he couldn't have. He loved her too much."

"What does that have to do with anything? The maid did it and was on trial," the detective said.

"No, it just popped in my head," the officer said. The detective shook his partner and looked into his eyes sternly.

"Wake up and smell the coffee!" the detective exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "He's the only one named Dandy in this town. If it isn't _him_, which maybe it isn't after all, it could be the stage name of some _other _clown."

"Well, there's only one way to find out, and it's not going to be easy," the detective said, crossing his arms in deep thought.

Back at his mansion, Dandy got fully dressed in his clown garb and put on his mask to conceal his identity. He was holding a very unorthodox murder weapon—the shiny, black, unused revolver. It had only been knives that he was accustomed to killing victims with. He was in front of the full-length mirror that had belonged to his mother, and he looked at himself and his reflection in the darkness with the waxing gibbous shining on the street outside. _They will pay_, he thought, _they will all pay_.


	21. Chapter 21

"Britta? Oh, there you are, _mein leibling_!"

The Swede was cleaning up after breakfast that Saturday morning; the carnies who helped her wash dishes also made sure that the great tent was kept spotless because there was a show being put on that evening, and if there was to be a full house, there had to be a full cleaning job. Elsa approached her, and Britta's green eyes spotted her as she came closer.

"Breakfast was_ wunderbar_, _ja_?" she asked.

"_Ja_, it was," Britta replied, reaching for a rag with which to dry her small, delicate hands that had gotten wet from dishwashing. She also took an extra step and dried the dish she had washed, placing it on the dry, clean stack of china plates.

"Tonight's show will be _wunderbar_ as well. Walk with me,_ leiben_," Elsa instructed, taking her damp hand and taking her toward the entrance of the great tent. In a short glance, she saw Jimmy, who was putting tables back where they had taken them from, stare at her worriedly as Elsa led her toward the main entrance. Pepper and Salty had shuffled past them, and little Jyoti was running around smiling as Amazon Eve chased her playfully. Britta looked at the woman strangely as they stopped, away from the rest of the carnies, as the German's aged hand caressing the girl's smooth cheek.

"You are _schön_," Elsa said. "Have you been feeling better?"

"I was…until this morning…I felt nauseous," Britta replied, remembering how she woke up early that morning with pains in her stomach that made her want to throw up.

"Aw, it is your first performance since your injury. You are just nervous," Elsa said. Britta knew she was wrong; the day before, she had no appetite for what had been served—spaghetti and meatballs. Even then, she wasn't feeling right.

"Or…I did not eat last night," the Swede said.

"The food was delicious, though," Elsa told her. "I'm surprised you weren't hungry."

"I was not…it is strange," Britta said in her thick accent.

"Well…I hope you have something new for tonight's show," the German told her, holding her soft, delicate hand in her wrinkled ones.

"Well, I may," Britta said, looking back at the carnies who helped wash dishes. "I must go back."

"Not yet," Elsa said, stopping her from walking. "About your clothes today…"

"_Ja_?"

"They are too plain, especially for a star like _you_," she remarked.

"I think they are fine," Britta said, looking into her soft hazel eyes.

"Look at yourself. You can't be serious!" Elsa said emphatically.

That day, Britta had chosen something completely random from her chest of belongings which held her clothes, undergarments, personal makeup, and other goods; it was a simple, heather gray frock with shorter sleeves than usual that lacked a full skirt or any kind of ornamentation other than a cinched waist that was part of its design. The folded collar was rather large, but made her neck look as graceful and thin as a swan's own. Her golden hair looked longer and even straighter, which she had done herself that morning, and she wore folded bobby socks with her simple saddle shoes. She wasn't wearing any makeup to highlight her beautiful, striking facial features, and her eyebrows looked like they haven't been plucked in three shows although they weren't particularly thick.

"I look fine," Britta said. "I am not on a stage at the moment."

"You will be tonight, though," Elsa replied. "Dress up, alright?" The Swede rolled her eyes slightly in frustration as she walked away.

"_Ja_, alright," she said to herself spitefully.

Later that morning, Britta was with Elsa, Jyoti, Pepper, Eve, and Dot and Bette doing their daily laundry duty. As Britta washed and wrung out a dress belonging to Ethel in the gears turned by a crank, she felt an awful stinging pain in her stomach, and felt the urge to throw up. She let go of the lever, gagging as her lower face puffed out; the stomach pain seemed to travel up her body toward her throat as her hand covered her mouth. She ran away from her duty and went promptly to Ethel's caravan.

"Britta! Get back here! We aren't finished!" Elsa called out. "_Schnell_!"

"Are you alright, Britta?" Bette asked.

"Don't mind her. She only wants attention," Dot sneered.

"Stop it! She's sick!" Bette retorted. "Remember she got hurt? Maybe this is all leftover from the stuff they gave her in the hospital."

Ignoring Elsa's sharp calls to get back to work, she ran to the small bathroom in the caravan and collapsed in front of the toilet, holding the sides of the bowl as she hurled, gagging uncontrollably as the vomit escaped her mouth. Ethel, who had been sitting there, ran into the bathroom to help the young girl.

"Y'okay?" she asked. "What's the matter?" Britta continued to vomit, and it seemed to feel like hot lava was being expelled from her body. She groaned out in pain as her throat began to burn—looking down, she saw the revolting sight of yellow bile mixed with the chunks of breakfast she had that morning.

"Britta? What's wrong with you?" Ethel repeated, getting her away from the toilet so she could flush it. She looked down at her face, which was frozen in a grimace as she pulled her up off the floor and put her on the lounge sofa she had used for a bed. She proceeded to remove her shoes and place them on the floor.

"I…feel sick," she said. Ethel reached up to her forehead to feel if she warm warm; she was normal, but looked chalky and pale.

"Listen, you rest, ok? I don't wanna hear Elsa tellin' ya to get back to work. You're obviously too sick to do anything," Ethel said. "If it keeps goin', we're goin' to the doctor. You ain't eaten anythin' last night. How long have you felt this stuff?"

"I do not remember. I think yesterday," Britta speculated, thinking an approximate time.

"Well, if it continues, we're goin' to the doctor. I have a doctor right here in town," Ethel said, putting a comfortable quilt over the girl.

"But the show! Elsa said—"

"Forget about Elsa. Think of yourself," the bearded lady said.

It was at that moment that Britta sprung up from the lounge sofa back to the bathroom to throw up again; this time, it was much worse and sounded very guttural with lots of gagging and forcing of the vomit out of her. Elsa, angry at the girl for ignoring her, went to Ethel's caravan and opened the door.

"Where is Britta?" she asked the bearded lady.

"She's in the bathroom. Sick. Pukin'," the lady replied.

"Let me in, please," Elsa asked. Ethel opened the door and looked at her, letting her in and allowing her to sit on the lounge sofa. In the short distance, the German could see the girl bent over, holding the toilet bowl as she threw up excessively.

"_Leibling_?" The girl still puked. "What did you eat?" Britta finally stopped puking, but started to cry from the burning sensation in her throat from the yellow bile and stomach contents being forced out of her mouth. The taste in her mouth was even more foul as she sobbed in her hands.

"Alright, that's it," Ethel said, pulling the girl back. "We're goin' to the doctor. See what's wrong with ya." Britta, feeling dizzy, suddenly thought that maybe it had been leftover from her injury; then again, how could it be possible?

"Is it my head?" she asked, holding the side of her head which still had a bump and stitches over the wound she had gotten.

"Do you have a headache?" Ethel asked, looking at her.

"N-No," Britta said weakly, holding her stomach.

"Well, I'm callin' the doctor here, then. We ain't got a ride, and we don't wanna be worryin' the others."

With that being said, the bearded lady went to her phone and dialed the number of the physician she frequented who lived in a humble white house with a clinic below his upstairs apartment, Dr. Mansfield. As she spun the dial and put the receiver to her ear, Britta was accompanied by Elsa on the lounge sofa, who put her arm around her to try and comfort the poor girl. The Swede felt nauseous, but not like she was about to throw up a third time.

"Maybe it is all leftover from the hospital. You've only been back a few days," the German told her.

"I do not understand," Britta said, frowning as nauseous pangs attacked her stomach and made her groan as she held her stomach.

"They must have pumped you with lots of _sheisse_," Elsa assumed. "It's all coming out now." Ethel repeated this thought over the phone, but then in turn told Elsa what he had said.

"Not like that, it don't," she said.

"Oh no," Britta said with worry. "What could it be?"

"We hope it's nothing too bad," Elsa said.

"So you'll be here soon?"….."Thirty minutes?"….."Alright, see ya then." Ethel hung up the phone, looking over at Britta's worried expression before sighing and standing up.

"He'll be comin'," she said. "Just rest until he gets here, alright?"

"_Ja_," the Swede said, turning on her side and bringing her legs up to her abdomen as she groaned in pain.

Once Dr. Mansfield's car appeared from the woodsy distance, the carnies all watched as he came out of the car and carried a briefcase carrying his portable medical supplies. Dell and Jimmy both walked up to him, recognizing his old, aged face as he walked toward the center of the ground.

"Dr. Mansfield? It's been a while. Why are you here?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, just for a check-up of someone," the man replied in his gruff, but kind voice.

"Who?" Dell asked.

"Ethel called me and some girl is sick. I have to help her," the doctor replied.

"Oh, Britta? Yeah, she's in that caravan over there," the strong man said, pointing toward Ethel's dwelling. Dr. Mansfield nodded and walked toward it on the dirt road; Jimmy tried to follow him, now knowing Britta wasn't feeling right, but Dell took his forearm and stopped him with a tight grip.

"Stop right there, boy," Dell said authoritatively.

"No, don't tell me what to do!" Jimmy exclaimed, trying to get out of his grasp. "My mom is in there!"

"Why do you need _her_ for? You're probably only gonna see the girl anyways. I'm not stupid," the strong man sneered.

"Let my arm go right now, Dell." Jimmy pulled his arm away, seeing it was mottled with red fingerprints, as he walked up toward his mother's caravan, adjusting his hobo-styled hat as he opened the door to see Dr. Mansfield's back slouched downward to see a weak Britta laying down on the lounge sofa with Elsa and Ethel looking down in concern.

"I'm Dr. Mansfield, dear," he said softly, looking down as she curled up in a ball. "I'm going to check you out, alright?"

"You need someone with ya?" Ethel asked.

"With all due respect, I think it is best that the patient be alone for this," the doctor said respectfully.

"C'mon, she ain't ever been with you before. Don't you think she's nervous enough?" Ethel asked.

"Fine, fine," Dr. Mansfield said, getting out his medical instruments just as Jimmy tried to enter. Ethe looked at her son and pointed out toward the door with a stressed tone in her voice.

"Don't you be comin' in here. Wait 'til we're done," she said.

"Why? Is she ok?" Jimmy asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I sure hope so, son. Just get out until we tell you to come in," Ethel said. "Please?"

As soon as he left, he stuck around outside, but Dr. Mansfield proceeded to establish a good repore with the girl, who was indeed very nervous even as he began to take out his stethoscope to check her heartbeat and breathing; they both sounded up to par, and he nodded.

"That sounds healthy," he said. He then proceeded to take out a clipboard and piece of paper, looking at Britta as he asked questions about her.

"I…have felt nauseous…today I threw up. Two times," she said.

"Hm, I see," Dr. Mansfield nodded, writing down what she said. "Have you had any increase or decrease in appetite?"

"Uh…" She tried to figure out what he was saying. "I did not feel hungry last night."

"She usually eats without problems, though," Ethel reminded him.

"Very well," he said, writing everything down. "Have you had any unusual spotting?"

"Spotting?" Britta's accent sounded thick as she pronounced the word.

"As in, you know, in your drawers?" Ethel asked her, trying to make her understand.

"I…believe it was…two days ago, doctor," Britta said, trying to recall a time she went to the bathroom to find a light amount of blood in her underpants.

"Ah, I see. Did you participate in any sexual activity in the past month?"

Her eyes widened, looking over at Ethel distressingly. This was a topic she preferred _not _to be open about—do I have to answer, she thought.

"It's ok if you did, Britta. Just say yes or no," Ethel said.

"_Ja_," Britta replied with heavily blushing cheeks. "Last week…plus a few days."

"I see…" He thought for a moment, clicking his pen closed and sighing worriedly. Ethel and Britta became tense—what did this mean? He then took out a needle with which to prick the girl's finger. "I'm going to need some blood, dear. Do you think you can relax?"

"_Ja_," she said. Ethel held her free hand as Britta extended her index finger. Within seconds, he made a little jab; surprisingly, it was enough to make her bleed a couple of drops for him to collect in a small vial. He bandaged her finger and put a color-changing litmus paper in the blood. As they waited, the caravan grew quiet.

"Doctor? What's going on?" Ethel asked.

"Believe me, I know why she's feeling this way." He took out the litmus paper after five minutes, and saw that it had changed color. Britta saw it and looked at the doctor strangely, but he had a slight smile in his wrinkled mouth.

"Britta," he said. "It isn't leftover from your head injury."

"What? What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Tell us," Ethel said, putting her arm over the girl's petite shoulder. The doctor sighed. "You're pregnant," he said softly.

"What?!" Britta asked, seeing the shocked expression on the bearded lady's face. She sighed and looked at the doctor with disbelief.

"R-Really?" she asked.

"Yes, she is. She is with child," Dr. Mansfield said.

Britta's lower lip trembled as watery tears formed in her jaded green eyes; she knew exactly what he was saying, and she didn't like what she was hearing. She let the tears flow down her cheeks as her emotions flooded her heart like bitter wine in a cold, metal chalice. Suddenly, she broke down, crying and sobbing excessively as she wailed with grief—how could Jimmy have wanted to implant his seed into her on purpose so that fruit could grow? Ethel held her close and consoled her, looking at the doctor with a sad smile.

"Shh, it's ok, darlin'," the bearded lady whispered to the crying girl, who muttered to herself in broken Swedish.

"Is there anything else I can help with? I feel terrible," the doctor said, sympathizing with the young woman as he held her cold, fragile hand for a moment.

"No, I think you did your duty for now," the bearded lady said calmly, trying to console Britta. "You can go back and go about your business."

The doctor stood up and gathered his supplies, looking down at Britta, who still sobbed in Ethel's large, strong arms. Jimmy, who hung out on the steps outside and paid no attention to anything if he heard her wails, looked back as the door opened. Mr. Mansfield looked at the boy with deformed hands as he adjusted his hobo hat, walking up the steps to meet him at eye level.

"Is she alright? Did you find what's wrong?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, she will be just fine," Mr. Mansfield said. "Please, I advise that you give her privacy for a while."

Jimmy watched as the doctor shuffled his way down the steps and down the dirt road toward where his car was, driving away slowly into the distance. Looking down at his shoes, he now could hear Britta crying and wailing in despair. Ethel tried to calm her down, holding her close and rubbing up and down the side of her arm.

"It's alright, darlin'," she said comfortingly.

"_Nej_, it is not fine," Britta cried. "I am unwed…I am a whore…with a bastard in my belly. He will never love me again."

"Who?" the bearded lady asked.

"Jimmy," she said, her accent breaking up her speech.

"_He_ is the father?" Ethel asked.

"I believe so….oh…" She broke into Swedish again, sobbing; "Oh my god, how could I have been so stupid?!"

"Listen to me, Britta. Listen good," Ethel said, looking down into her eyes and handing her a tissue. "I never married Jimmy's father, but I treated him like my husband, and for a time I was like his wife. I know what you're goin' through right now. It happens. It don't make you any less of a person, you know."

"He will not want…this child," Britta sobbed, her eyes like waterfalls. "He…he will not. I know that for a fact."

"How can you be so sure, darlin'?" Ethel asked, sighing at the fact that she was going to be a grandmother. If anything, she was happy that the child would be coming from a good person she knew and not some whore off the street—she knew about her son's sexual appetite. _Typical male he is_, she thought.

"I…I do not know. I know he will not want to have a child," she sighed sadly.

"I've seen how he is with you, Britta. I doubt that. He lived without a father, so to speak. I doubt he would want his child to have no father to care for them."

"Please….do not tell him," the Swede said. "Do not make mention of me."

"I will not, but I'll say somethin' if you don't by the end of the month. Is that a deal?" Ethel offered.

"_Ja_, I suppose," Britta said, recognizing the inevitability of the situation. "But…what about Elsa?"

"It ain't any of her business. If she does find out, then_ hell_ with her," Ethel stated, rolling her eyes. "Besides, you don't start to show until a couple months along."

"Oh."

"Hey, you can still perform in that time dependin' on how ya feel. Do you feel better?" Ethel asked. There was no nausea panging in the girl's stomach anymore, and she didn't feel an urge to puke, so she nodded gently.

The night couldn't come sooner enough.

That night, the audience seats were filling up by the tens as people created the hustle and bustle of buying tickets in line outside before entering the evening's show. They had not grown tired of Britta's impeccable performances with her unique gift, but with all the crazy gossip, no one knew if she would be on the stage that night to perform a number. Jimmy was especially worried more about her well-being than her ability to perform—as he slicked and combed his hair back in front of the mirror, he thought deeply about what could have gone wrong with her earlier that day. His put up a finger and made his signature curl in the front of his forehead, adding volume to his hair. He saw his mother, all dressed in a blue satin stage costume with makeup applied and her beard trimmed, walk by and look at him as he got ready.

"Mom?" he asked. Ethel stopped and looked up at her son, who was slightly taller than her.

"Yeah? You ready for the show?" she asked. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"I was going to ask about Britta," he stated. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking up at him.

"Is she ok?" he asked persistently. "What went on? I heard crying or yelling."

"How?"

"I sat outside on the bottom steps, hoping to see her after. What happened to that?" Jimmy asked. It was just then that he remembered the doctor telling him to keep away for a while.

"She fell asleep. She felt sick," Ethel stated directly.

"With _what_?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, Jimmy, must you know everything?"

"Yes," he said, lowering his voice and looking down into his mother's blue eyes. "Because I love her."

Suddenly, Elsa came out of her tent with Britta behind her. As usual, the German woman was wearing something a little too outrageous for someone with only one number; her look consisted of her usually flamboyant makeup with bright red lipstick and blue eyeshadow, her sky blue pantsuit, and a pair of her pumps from Paris. Next to her came a shy-looking Britta, who wowed the other carnies with her white dress covered in small red polka dots with a full skirt and fitted bodice that accentuated her tiny, wasp waist. On the top of her bustier was a fabric rosette centered with Swarovski crystal beads, and her delicate feet wore a pair of bright red stiletto pumps to match the polka dots and the sash that fitted her waist. Her golden hair was in a very different style than usual—it looked shorter, somewhat like Elsa's, and with more volume and bigger pin curls. Her eyebrows had been plucked thin by Elsa, and her makeup, though not as flashy and exuberant, was flattering and vibrant. On her graceful, swan-like neck was the small ruby heart pendant given to her by Jimmy; he had noticed Britta instantly, his jaw dropping with disbelief and awe at how she looked.

"Pretty! Pretty!" Pepper called out, her hands clapping uncontrollably and making the other carnies smile. Elsa looked back at Britta, whose facial expression was evident to be shy.

"Feeling better? You have a glow about you, _leiben_," she said. Her vivid green eyes looked at her wild makeup design and nodded slowly, keeping her composure

"_Ja_. I am better," Britta said.

The time came for everyone to go backstage or in front of the curtain if they were opening the show that evening, and as the crowd grew anxious with anticipation, Jimmy found himself next to Britta, smelling the familiar scent of lavender infused with jasmine perfume. He looked at her, feeling his male anatomy getting hard in his pants as she gazed back at him with her vivid green stare. Jimmy smiled at her and took her hand, kissing the outside—she didn't reject him.

"Are you feeling better, doll?" he asked.

"_Ja_," Britta said.

"What was wrong?" he questioned.

"Can we talk later? I am not ready to tell you," she told him directly. She felt extremely nervous being around him at that moment, and she got an angry vibe from him.

"Why not?" Jimmy asked, getting aggravated. She ignored him as she heard the crowd cheer and the charismatic voice of Ethel being radiated to the audience as they gasped, oohed and ahhed at the sight of her full, auburn-brown beard.

"Good evening and welcome to Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities!" There was a cheer from the excited audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to feast your eyes on some of the world's most bizarre creatures of the night!" The crowd cheered before she continued her soliloquy. "These freaks of nature will make you cry, laugh, or even give you a fright. Without further ado, strongman Dell Toledo!"

With that being declared, the crowd gasped at the sight of Dell, wearing another ridiculous caveman costume, lifting up a metal rod with seat holding Pepper and Salty as they laughed. They focused on the microcephalic duo and gasped, making sounds of disgust and fear as they gawked at the sight.

"The Three-Breasted Woman, Desiree Dupree!"

Another spotlight went on the olive-skinned woman wearing no top but had her three nipples covered with red, tasseled pasties as the men all whistled and made cat calls. Her magnetism was so strong, and it led even the women to look at her in awe as she ruffled her skirt while moving her hips seductively.

"The Siamese Sisters!"

The spotlight went to Dot and Bette, who stood there on stage wearing a light yellow frock with a Peter Pan collar and floral patterns on the grain of the fabric. At them, the crowd gasped and shrieked a little at the sight of two heads, or sisters, sharing one body. Dot looked at the crowd hatefully, while Bette kept her cool composure and smiled, waving the hand on her side.

"Lobster Boy! The Amazing Jimmy Darling!"

Still thinking of and worrying about Britta, he looked at the audience charmingly and smiled as the spotlight went on him, showing his deformed hands to everyone—despite people's sighing and shock, young women and teenage girls swooned over him and how his impeccable smile charmed them.

"Oh my god, he's so hot!" a lady said.

"He's so dreamy!" a teen girl said.

"And of course, people come in different shapes and sizes….presenting Amazon Eve and Jyoti, aka Miss Ma Petit!"

The crowd all went "aww" at seeing the tiny Jyoti, in traditional Indian dress, standing next to the abnormally tall Amazon Eve, who was wearing a custom-designed dress that was emerald green that came with a matching headband and was paired with a pair of chic black pumps. They both waved at the audience, who clapped at their presence.

"And now, introducing...the woman whose mental gifts are unparalleled! Coming all the way from the cold tundra of Sweden, let's hear a roar for the one! The only! Britta Nordlund!"

The crowd roared as told, and even clapped, giving the young woman a standing ovation as the curtains opened to reveal her innocent, pure presence to the public. Several men whistled, but Britta, looking out at the audience, started to sing into the microphone the one melody she knew best in a flawless, angelic a capella:

"_När som jag var på mitt adertonde år, _

_Det var en vacker gosse som föll uti min håg. _

_Den tänkte jag förevigt att få äga. _

_Men denna min tanke rätt snarelig försvann, _

_Det var en annan flicka som lades i hans famn. _

_Den liknar han vid rosende blomma_…"

Not one person in the crowd had a dry eye—or did it really? The front row, the second row, all the back to the very last row all tried to wipe tears from their eyes from the beautiful soprano that had captivated their souls like heaven would at the pearly gates. It was unearthly, chilling, ghostly, and the performance was enhanced when she raised her arms in the middle of the song, summoning what looked like the aurora borealis in auric shades of green, blue and bright purple. Everyone gasped in shock, watching the energy being summoned mentally by the Swede, looking in dumbfounded awe of her new ability.

"It's magic!" a child cried out with cheer.

"She's a witch, isn't she?" an old man whispered to his wife, looking in awe at the scene.

"She's amazing!" a woman exclaimed.

"So beautiful, too. She doesn't come from this world, that's for sure," her husband said, his eyes fixed on the changing color of the energy she had summoned to simulate the Northern lights.

Her performance was cut short—just before singing the chilling last line of the song, the sound of gun shots took over the peaceful melody and turned the show into chaos.


	22. Chapter 22

"BRITTA! GET _DOWN_!"

The firing continued, one shot after another, causing a massive hysteria and panic of unparalleled proportions in the show that had been peacefully taken place. Elsa, who was backstage, gathered up as many people as she could and tried to keep them calm, as did Dell, who lent a hand in keeping Pepper and Salty calm as they fidgeted and screamed in fear. Jimmy, who warned Britta upon hearing the first gunshot, ran to the stage and tackled her, holding her close and carrying her light body over his shoulder to get her away from the scene—someone had tried to kill her.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Take that! FREAKS! AND THOSE WHO SUPPORT YOU!" screamed a familiar voice as the two went to hide in the left wing of the stage.

Jimmy took a peak through the curtain, being careful not to be seen, and saw many of the audience members injured, while some lay lifeless and dead in puddles of blood. Some people frantically ran out the entrance, as the man with the gun, who wore an all-too-familiar clown suit, fired at them and shot them dead with the revolver in his hand. Normally, Jimmy never displayed fear about anything; now, this was different. Looking at the man dressed head to toe in frills, pompoms, and a mask to conceal his familiar identity, Jimmy took a quiet sigh, looking at Britta, whose eyes were full of fear at its greatest amount. He knew that the man in question was Dandy.

"Are you hurt?" he whispered.

"_Nej_," she replied, feeling herself start to panic inside.

"That was close. _Too_ close," he said, making his way over to her quietly and holding her with all the might in his strong arms. Britta felt like she was in heaven, just holding him close to her with their newly-developing child, still a mere embryo, between them. Even if this meant the end of their lives by this brutal psychopath, she would die happy knowing she had perished with the ones she loved most.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Dandy called out, shooting a bullet up in the air and causing them to get startled—Britta feared losing the baby at this point, considering it was only a cell-sized embryo and hadn't fully started to develop yet. "There's only a few of these left…two have your names on them!"

"Let's get outta here," Jimmy whispered silently, taking Britta into his arms again to pick her up as he tried to quietly sneak his way out of the great tent through a secret passageway that connected to Elsa's residential tent, where he found everyone struggling to keep quiet as they hid behind furniture and the thicker drapes. Pepper and Salty cried quietly, which had been rare for them; Amazon Eve protectively huddled in with Paul the Tattooed Seal to shield Jyoti; Dell held onto his wife Desiree for dear life, Dot and Bette was near Ethel and Elsa, and Suzy, the woman born without legs, was hiding underneath a table with three other dwarfs of near-equal size. Jimmy put Britta down and they sprinted over to where Elsa was, and the German held the Swede closely as she sobbed.

"This could be the end," she sobbed.

"Do not say that," Britta cried.

"Britta," Ethel said, extending her hand to the petite woman as she took it, holding her close.

"Do _not _panic," Ethel said, looking down at her abdomen for a hint.

"Oh," Britta said. Jimmy looked at his mother's facial expression; he knew all too well what each of her faces meant, but this one, in particular, was different.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"Now ain't the time," Ethel said. Suddenly, the sound of shrill screaming came from the great tent, and it startled Britta enough so she fell into Jimmy's arms.

"I got you," he said. She held him close for dear life, feeling his heart beating against his rib cage near her ear. The screaming continued.

"FREAKS! FREAKS! _FREAKS_! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" Dandy shrieked, suddenly hearing the sound of sirens outside, as well as a few ambulances to transport the injured promptly to the hospital. The carnies and Elsa, who were inside her private tent, heard the sound of a loud, intimidating voice on the megaphone—it was Officer Rowley.

"We know you're in there! You are completely surrounded! Come out of the tent!" he called, his voice sounding high and mighty with the amplification of the megaphone. However, Dandy did the opposite; he ran further into the tent, went up on the stage and looked around, taking off his hat to pull up his mask for a better look. His strange blue eyes explored the vicinity before going into the left wing into the backstage area.

"WHERE ARE YOU? SHOW YOURSELF!" he called out, preparing his gun. Britta heard his voice, and Jimmy, still holding her, held her close and tightly to shield her from any harm.

"Don't you worry," he said, letting her go and alarming her—his tone was fierce and furious, tasting the revenge on his tongue. "If he wants _you_, he'll have to go through _me_, first." He walked toward the threshold, prompting her to run and follow him.

"No, come back! Come back!" she whispered forcefully, starting to cry as he walked away. That incited all the carnies to try and prevent them both from going, but little did they know that Dandy was on the other side—once Jimmy saw him, fire burned in his dark, hard brown eyes.

"You will_ pay_!"

With that claim in mind, he punched the revolver out of Dandy's hand and punched him in the face repeatedly, leaving a bloody nose, bruised eye, and missing teeth in the process. Suddenly, Dandy looked up at Jimmy wide-eyed, feeling a terrible pain ripping through his chest—the fiery-tempered young man with deformed hands watched as Dandy gripped his chest and struggled to breathe, sucking wind as he collapsed to his knees. Jimmy was confused, but still proceeded to knock Dandy to the floor completely. He still tried to rise as he gripped his chest…his heart beat grew slower…his breathing ceased completely…he fell back—he was dead.

In shock, Jimmy looked down at his deformed hands, wondering if he had done something to off his life while beating him up. He looked down at the psychopath's lifeless, pale corpse, and then he felt the urge to look behind him only to find Britta with her eyes opened wide and her breathing heavy as if she ran up three flights of stairs. He looked at her in amazement, knowing she had killed him using her powers. Britta tasted that forbidden fruit of revenge and death in her mouth, but then regained a normal state of consciousness to look at Jimmy.

"I can't believe it," he said. "You…saved my life. He could've killed me while I was beating the shit of him like that." He approached her and took her into his arms, holding her close and feeling tears of joy run down his face and onto her petite, clothed shoulder.

"I felt the rage…I channeled it…I never killed anyone with my power before," she whispered. Jimmy crashed his lips onto hers as they embrace wildly—Britta felt fulfilled and, more importantly, safe.

"You…oh my god, I'm so proud of you," Jimmy said with a smirk, caressing her face before holding her again. Out of guilt, she began to cry softly again.

"It's ok, I'm here," he whispered.

The other carnies came out of hiding, and looked at Dandy's dead body lying on the floor. Pepper and Salty moved closer to get a better look; Eve, Paul, Suzy, and Jyoti all gasped in shock; while Elsa stood back in fear, looking at Jimmy and Britta conspiratorially—what had they done? Did they kill him somehow?

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"He just died there," Britta said spitefully. "Blame it on the butter. He had too much."

She knew Britta killed him with her abilities—the rest of the carnies smiled and rejoiced, but they were struck silent by the approaching footsteps of Detective Snow and Officer Rowley leading in a few police officers, who were armed at the ready. The detective looked down at his body, and his partner looked and noticed that it was indeed Dandy Mott.

"It_ was_ him!" he exclaimed. "God, I wonder how he died."

"Heart attack, maybe," Jimmy said.

"How would you know?" the detective asked.

"I just saw him. Plus, I beat the shit outta him for what he's done to my Britta," he explained, holding the Swede to him by slinking an arm around her waist.

"This was the man," Britta said, looking up at the detective and police officer, focusing on their thoughts so they wouldn't be penalized for anything they technically didn't do. The detective sighed, being swayed by the girl's mental influence, and pointed to the coroner and his assistant who stood nearby.

"Alright, get him in a body bag," he directed.

Jimmy watched as they began to lift his body from the floor and placed it in the body bag, zipping it up slowly as the detective directed them to come out—paramedics a plenty were also at the scene and escorted groups of three among the carnies outside of Elsa's tent. Elsa had been sobbing, worrying about her show and how it had been recovered quickly from being on its last leg. She also thought about how Dandy tried to shoot Britta while she performed her number, and her vivid makeup ran down her face. Bette, on her side of the twins' conjoined body, cried and sobbed with worry; Dot just looked ahead and cooperated with the police and paramedics as they were led out. Pepper and Salty were given tissues with which to wipe their eyes and noses, and they followed the conjoined twins with Ethel, Jimmy, Britta, Dell and Desiree behind them. A paramedic took Britta's arm gently and looked at her with a slight smile to establish a good repore.

"Miss Nordlund? Is that really you?" he asked, his kind blue eyes trying to charm her. Jimmy looked at him defensively and tried to pull her away from him, sighing with aggravation.

"Why should it matter, bub?" he asked.

"We have to check her. We heard that she was the main target of the bullets that maniac fired," the paramedic said.

"Well, I'm going with you guys," Jimmy stated stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. Britta looked up at him, but the paramedic led them near the open, spacious back of an empty ambulance and had her sit while he put a brown blanket over her shoulders. He gave her a glass of water, but when he held one up to Jimmy, the man with the deformed hands shook his head.

"Nah, it's alright," he said.

"Did you get hurt at all, miss?" the paramedic asked, looking and admiring Britta's striking Nordic beauty. She looked back at him, but she seemed be staring through him rather than back at him directly.

"_Nej_," Britta said.

"Can you hear alright?" he asked.

"_Ja_," she replied, sipping her water while thinking of the child beginning to grow inside her. Jimmy looked down at her, but then took a seat right next to her in the back of the ambulance, taking her free hand into his own and feeling how cold she was. He then looked at the paramedic just before he tried to take out his stethoscope to check on Britta's heart and breathing.

"No, don't," Jimmy instructed. "She's had enough of those damn things."

"But sir—"

"Just, get outta here. Let me be alone with her," he said rather rudely. The paramedic walked off, and he looked down at Britta, putting his arm over her and holding her close to his side. Her verdant eyes seemed to stare off into space, and she looked in the near distance and saw Ethel and Elsa talking with each other and trying to console one another. Dead bodies were being carried out one after another from the great tent in thick body bags, and the injured, who were shot mostly in their legs, arms, or shoulders, were dragged out on stretchers as the other paramedics tried to calm them down and prevent them from screaming in pain. She then looked down at her tummy, sighing and knowing that it was the moment of truth for both her and Jimmy, who was sitting next to her and worrying about her.

"So…are you feeling sick?" he asked gently. She sighed, looking up into his eyes as tears formed in her green orbs—he listened.

"Jimmy," she said worriedly. "I have something to tell you."

"Yeah?" His dark brown gaze softened up as he gazed down at her; she started to speak.

"I…I…I found out today…from the doctor…what is wrong with me," she told him.

"Is it serious?" Jimmy asked with concern.

"Well…not so much," she said, taking a deep breath as she worried.

"What is it? Tell me," he insisted.

"I am with child," Britta said, a slight whine as she started to cry out of worry about his reaction. Her cheeks turned beet red from embarrassment as she watched his response.

Jimmy gasped, looking down at her as his look of shock gradually turned into a smile of joy. He knew that Britta was the person he would want to spend his life with, especially with her as the mother of his children. He kept this in mind when they made love that fateful night, but he never expected such a surprise coming from her.

"R-Really?" he asked emphatically.

"If you do not want the child, I can bring it up myself," Britta stated. She shook his head and proceeded to hold her close to him, rocking her a little bit.

"Don't be ridiculous!" he exclaimed happily, letting her go to look into her vivid green eyes before kissing her. "I am so…_happy_ to know that you have my child growing in there."

"Are you certain?" she asked, her eyes widening in shock at his seemingly positive reaction. Jimmy planted a gentle kiss on her forehead as he reached into the brown blanket to pat the girl's stomach gently with a calm smile.

"I'm so happy that I'm gonna be a dad," he said calmly. "I can't wait until it starts kicking."

Giggling, Britta looked at him as he wiped away her tears and leaned down for a moment of deep eye contact before beginning to kiss her tenderly, cupping her feminine jawline in his deformed hands as she reciprocated his show of affection wholeheartedly. Suddenly, he had an idea—it sounded radical coming from someone like him, but he blurted it out anyway much to Britta's surprise as he broke the kiss.

"Let's get married, doll," he said with a smile.

"_R-Really_?" she asked, her eyes lighting up like a thousand suns. "But what about…what about—"

"There is nothing to worry about, Britta," he said smiling down at her, stilling cupping her face. "_You_ are the one for me, and as long as we are together, I can never worry about anything ever again. When I'm with you, all of my dreams come true and all my cares are out the door. You're all I think about, and I would die for you. If you marry me, I will always take care of you, and I will forever protect you and love you unconditionally."

There were tears of joy forming in Britta's eyes as she understood every word he was saying to her. He wiped them away, and looked down at her as she smiled tearfully. Jimmy smiled his irresistible grin at her, a dimple showing in each cheek as she returned his gaze and thought for a moment before responding. Jimmy had been the only person to ever truly understand her, and of course she wanted to get married. She did love him, but before deciding, she thought of the well-being of her growing child; without any further staring, she nodded gently and smiled.

"_Ja_," she said. "I will marry you."

"Oh, I love you, Britta," he cooed, holding her close to him and kissing her with passion. He finally had what he wanted—her and no one else, and as he stroked her golden, slightly messed golden curls, he smiled contently; there had been light to shine in the darkness around them.

Despite their happiness, an underlying problem was facing the freak show—it was _not_ going to make things easy.


	23. Chapter 23

A few days after the violent massacre at the show that weekend, a strange vehicle pulled up to the grounds, catching the attention of Elsa, who had been sitting out in her folding sun chair as she read the headline of the _Jupiter Times_, looking at a photo of the atrocities that had taken place; "_Masked Maniac Attacks Freak Show: Many Injured, 26 Dead_." As soon as she began to read the article with sadness in her hazel eyes, the vehicle and the people coming out of it brought her to her feet as she looked at them; they were dressed very well and looked very official in their uniforms.

"Elsa Mars, is it?" the man on the left said; he looked much older than she and was completely bald. She approached them as the wind blew her hair backward.

"_Ja_, it is. May I ask who you are?" she asked. Jimmy, who had been on a morning walk with Britta, saw the two men and prompted them to stop.

"We are from the Florida Department of Public Safety," the man on the left said, holding up his badge for proof, as did the younger one on the right. "I am Calvin Cooley and this is my assistant, Frederick Long."

"What is this in regards to, gentlemen?" Elsa asked with worry.

"We had several reports from the area that there had been an attack here. Even that newspaper," Cooley said, pointing over at it as it was placed on the chair. "Let's see…many injured, twenty-six dead?"

"It was very sudden, sir," Elsa stated, her heart panging sadly. Suddenly, Ethel came out of the caravan and watched the scene attentively as the man responded.

"It still is unacceptable that something of this magnitude could happen. We heard the man just died here, but we…we don't think this can last any longer with you guys being here and doing your shows," Cooley stated.

"What?" Elsa was in shock, her hazel eyes widening with despondence. Jimmy's jaw dropped—had he heard them correctly? Britta just stood there, and the other carnies including Pepper, Salty, and a few dwarves, poked their heads out of their tents.

"We are very sorry, but the state of Florida is requiring that this business be shut down due to risks to the safety of the public. _Your_ audiences that have yet to come, not that there will be any," Long, his assistant said.

"This is an outrage! Can't we just hire police officers to guard the area while a show is in session?" Elsa shouted.

"The town can't afford that, and as far as we are concerned, freak shows are a thing of past. Time to move on to bigger and better things," Cooley said convincingly. "These people are being showcased for things we already have familiarized ourselves with over the past fifty years or so. It's time to give it up. No one goes to marvel at people's deformities anymore. It's just plain mean.

"_You're_ plain mean!" Elsa sneered coldly. "How could you do this to us? These poor people have no other home!"

"Plenty of room in homeless shelters and asylums for the really defective ones," Long said, retorting rudely. "And any foreigners you have, we can make sure they are sent to their home countries if they have no proof of citizenship."

"Oh, that bugger!" Paul exclaimed, in his tent looking out at the scene of the two officials and Elsa. He hated his life in Britain—it had been the most miserable part of his life.

"_Nej_," Britta whispered to herself, thinking of her grim past in Sweden—_this can't be happening_, she thought. Jimmy approached the men, Dell meeting him halfway, and felt his temper begin to flare up at him. The Swede looked at her love gingerly, fearing the worst would happen to him had he done anything.

"How could you do this? This is wrong!" Jimmy hissed.

"We have no other work!" Dell shouted.

"This isn't fair, gentlemen," Elsa said, looking at the two men.

"What isn't fair is that you have a freak show where people were killed! People aren't going to come here again to see shows knowing that people died here and that a maniac rampaged through your tent shooting up the place. You're not going to make any money here with people not coming, so you will have no choice no matter what. We are sorry, but this place must be shut down," Cooley explained, trying to offset his assistant's crude tone of voice by establishing a good repore. "Plus, my assistant is right. It isn't nice to stare at people who are different, even if you guys make a living off people staring at you. All monsters are human, after all."

There was truth in his explanation that Jimmy was extremely partial to and agreed with—since a very young age, he had been showcased for his unusually deformed hands with his fused fingers and their abnormal size. His mother, Ethel, had performed even before becoming a part of Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities by being dubbed America's Bearded Sweetheart as an act all by herself. Dell, who had no physical deformities but was incredibly strong and even killed a man, had also performed previously. Desiree, who had three breasts and was intersexual, was exploited for being a lady…and then some. Bette and Dot were gawked at for sharing a body, while Eve and Jyoti were both stared at for their staggering height differences. Paul, who had faced taunting and teasing by his peers back in England for his short arms, was exploited for his shortcomings and for the fact that tattoos covered his body excessively. Meanwhile, Pepper and Salty were looked at in disgust because they had been born with microcephaly, which affected their outward appearance and simplified their brain function to a bare minimum. Suzy, the woman without legs, was taken advantage of by both Elsa's selfish desire to exploit the carnies for her personal benefit and the audience's curiosity during every show because she had been born without the lower half of her body.

Jimmy then proceeded to look at Britta, the most unique of the carnies—brought to America from Sweden just months before, her presence both on and off stage had brought everyone such joy and happiness, especially Elsa, who exploited her for her extraordinary powers under the guise of being a mother figure and mentor to her. It disheartened him to think about it that way, but after all the young woman had been through in her life, it even made him angry to an extent that Elsa would be so selfish. He thought more about how he and the other carnies had been showcased and treated badly by the community—for the longest time, he knew that what he truly wanted was outside the grounds, outside of the small hamlet of Jupiter, Florida. He continued to look at Britta, seeing her hair blowing gently in the wind as she stared back with her vivid green eyes. _Is this really where I want to raise a family? Will I want exploitation to be following my future wife and our children around to stigmatize them?_ He asked himself many questions before opening his mouth to voice his opinion.

"You are right, sir," he said calmly.

"_What_?!" Elsa exclaimed. "You can't be serious! After all I have done for you!"

"And what have we gotten in return?" Jimmy asked, finally feeling good that he challenged her authority. "Sure, a salary and a home and food; but really, we've been exploited all these years. This man is right! If we keep being showcased like monkeys in a zoo, we will never be able to mingle in with the outside world. Sure, the world isn't kind to freaks like us…but…if we continue to be here, we are still going to be treated badly _and_ be exposed to danger." He looked at Elsa, who looked at him with a newfound hatred that burned in her eyes. "You've been exploiting us for your own selfish reasons…it has to stop. He's right…." He looked at Cooley. "This world ain't gonna get better without bigger and better things. Being stuck here ain't gonna help us none."

"Britta has changed all of that!" Elsa shouted, looking at him as tears formed in her eyes from the situation as a whole. "She has brought us more publicity than any of_ you_ have! We've become known throughout the state with her acts!"

"And is that_ all_ you care about, Elsa? Really? She's a _human_, damn it, just like the rest of us!" Jimmy exclaimed. Ethel looked at her son, horrified by the fact that he actually put himself forward and spoke his mind even though the idea never truly shocked her—he had always been a fiery, outspoken youth.

"I gave you all a home! Food! A place to call your own! This is madness!" She then turned her back on him, as well as the other carnies and rolled her eyes. "Whatever._ I_ am the true star, as we all know. I don't need_ you_."

"And we can function just fine without you, Elsa!" he shouted, storming away from the scene to leave the carnies to look at each other and stare at a despondent Elsa, who was still in the presence of the two men from the Florida Department of Public Safety. Cooley looked at his assistant, who leaned in sideways with a sly look in his facial expression.

"That's show business," he smirked. Elsa heard them whispering, rolling her eyes.

"When does my show have to be shut down by?" she asked with disappointment.

"February 1," Cooley said, handing her an important form attached to a document. "This will need to be completed and mailed to our offices. Address is enclosed. Have a lovely day, ma'am."

As Elsa watched the men walk toward their vehicle and drive off, she felt her heart become empty with sorrow and disappointment—this business had been all she had after leaving Germany, and it had been her only home. She looked down, and the ground looked be moving beneath her as the wind caressed her blonde, curly bob. She felt alone, even though the carnies looked at her—Jimmy, who left the scene, was followed by his mother, who looked at him with a blank face that he couldn't distinguish.

"How could ya have done that? You know we ain't got no where to go," Ethel stated, looking at him with worry.

"Yeah, we do. Anywhere is better than here," Jimmy said. "Besides, there ain't much we can do. The state's closing the joint down anyway. Damage is already done."

"Jimmy, what about the others?" she asked with concern, sitting next to him on the steps of her caravan. "How're they gonna find work? Let alone survive? Think of Pepper and all those here who can't fully think for themselves!"

"They're my family," he stated, looking down at the rough texture of his rugged blue jeans. "We'll think of something."

"How?" Ethel asked. "I hope it won't be like the conditions you're complainin' about here."

"No," he said. "Far from it."

Suddenly, Britta walked toward Ethel's caravan to see them both sitting down on the steps. She took a seat and sat up straight, looking up at Jimmy as he stared at her lovingly. He thought of his future with this woman, and he knew that it would be a happy one; he had dreamed of living off the land, owning a small farm somewhere where he could raise a family and live humbly in a small farming town. Perhaps he could do that very thing by sharing his farm with the rest of his "family"?

"I've thought of something good," Jimmy said to Ethel. "It'll happen after Britta and I are married. It'll benefit all of us."


	24. Epilogue: The Later Years

In March 1954, two weeks before Jimmy's twenty-third birthday, the young couple had gone to a local justice of the peace in Jupiter wearing their best clothing. Britta had not really followed suit with traditions of a white gown, veil, and a big party, but her dress was indeed white albeit more casual than an actual wedding gown. It had a slightly layered skirt, a higher square neckline, and a sugar pink sash around her waist. On her neck was the ruby red heart given to her by Jimmy, which she now had worn more frequently than her other jewelry pieces. She had been two months along and getting regular checkups—despite miscarriage scares, the baby seemed healthy but her tummy had not extended too much yet. Jimmy, on the other hand, stuck with his best clothing which included a slate blue button up shirt with a black vest, black slacks with a belt, and his leather shoes. As usual, his auburn-brown hair was slicked back with the exception of a curl in the front of his forehead. Britta's golden hair, however, was down—according to her own customs, her wedding day would be the last day she would wear her hair down in public.

The former troupe belonging to the now-obsolete Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities all came to the venue connected to the justice's office. The justice, an older man of sixty, looked at everyone as they dressed up to witness Jimmy and Britta's wedding. The only three who did not come were Elsa, Dell and Desiree. Elsa had relocated herself to New York City, still with the delusional dream of becoming a star at her mature stage of life. Dell, who never really liked Jimmy, refused to come, and his wife Desiree followed suit so that he wouldn't hurt her physically as he tended to do when she didn't obey him. She felt really bad, but she feared for her own safety—she had witnessed Dell kill a man once with his strength alone.

The small, intimate wedding began as the seats, enough to hold all of the former carnies, were arranged to form an aisle for Ethel to walk down with Britta to give her away. As she came down, a pianist who was hired for the event played soft Bach in the background as Jimmy smiled, seeing his bride on the arm of his bearded mother being brought to him. As soon as she made it to the altar, Pepper smiled and clapped, but Eve, sitting next to her held one of her hands.

"It isn't time yet," she giggled.

"Yay!" Pepper cooed.

The justice looked at the couple as they faced each other—Jimmy held Britta's small hands in his large, deformed ones as he smiled down at her happily, looking into her bright green eyes. Britta smiled slightly and blushed; then began the service.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this most joyous of days to witness the union of James Wendel Darling and Britta Elisabeth Nordlund," the justice declared. Paul, who was the ring bearer near Jimmy's side, smiled joyously as a tear of joy formed in his eye. The justice looked at Jimmy, who smiled at Britta as he listened to the justice.

"Do you, James Darling, take Britta to be your lawfully wedded wife; to honor and to hold, to love and to cherish, through success and sorrow, and in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" the justice asked. Jimmy kept his eyes on his bride, smiling down at her with his deep, dark brown eyes—Britta melted as she felt a tear form in her eye.

"I do," he said.

"And do you, Britta Nordlund, take James to be your lawfully wedded husband; to honor and to hold, to love and to cherish, through success and sorrow, and in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" the justice asked. Britta was nervous, but answered without hesitation.

"I do," she said calmly.

"Now it is time to exchange rings and vows."

Paul came forward, holding the rings on the center of a silk white pillow; meanwhile, almost all of the former carnies wept with joy at seeing them get married and officially united by their love. Jimmy held Britta's small ring in his fingers, holding her left hand and sliding it on her slender ring finger; the ring fit perfectly, the small band of diamonds sparkling in the light.

"Repeat after me," the justice ordered Jimmy. "With this ring, I promise you my fidelity, love, respect, and honor for the rest of my life and beyond." Without hesitation, he repeated everything word for word, and then added his own twist.

"My pledge of love is not just confined to this ring, though. My love for you is endless," Jimmy said, making Ethel laugh through her tears of joy.

Soon, the justice did the same for Britta, who took a specifically-fitted ring for Jimmy as she recited the vows word for word as best as she could as she placed it on his left thumb—his fingers were fused, so his ring finger was not possible. Their eyes met, and Jimmy saw her happiness shining through them luminously. When everything was done and the couple was holding hands, the officiant ended the ceremony.

"By the power invested in me by the state of Florida, I now proudly pronounce you husband and wife," he declared. "You may kiss the bride."

"I love you," Jimmy whispered, holding his new wife and kissing her lips tenderly as the former carnies all rose and clapped.

Pepper and Salty both made noises denoting their cheerfulness, while everyone else was all emotional and wiping their eyes with handkerchiefs. Britta looked out at everyone as they applauded the newlyweds, and as they walked down the set aisle for them, Jyoti, Pepper, and Dot and Bette tossed rice at them, making them both laugh happily. Once they exited the venue, the rest of the former carnies followed them, and they went back to their temporary home—most of their trailers from their carnie days had been rearranged in the western outskirts of town, which was woodsier, in their own little village until Jimmy could find the ideal place for them all to ultimately go. They celebrated with toasts of wine, jokes, and music over a campfire, a very simple affair that was rich in meaning to the newlyweds. Britta only had a few sips of wine—she actually felt quite tired.

* * *

By late July of the same year, Jimmy had found an ad in the newspaper for a piece of farmland in South Carolina—apparently, the owner of the property had inherited it after his father had passed away and was moving out to California to pursue a career in show business. For about two weeks, the two exchanged letters regarding selling of the lot, and the owner was nice enough to cut them all a break and sell the whole five acres for $450.

Meanwhile, Britta was definitely starting to show—being seven months or so along, her belly was not only wide across, but her breasts had swollen and became tender to anticipate the coming of milk to nourish her child when it was born. Before their leave the beginning of August, Sigrid, now a certified maternity nurse, frequently visited her to perform check-ups aside from Dr. Mansfield. She even tried to predict the gender of her baby by looking at the size of her bump and how much weight she gained. Luckily, she did not gain much weight, but she was tired and frequently victim to morning sickness.

"You're glowing," Sigrid said, speaking in Swedish with her.

"I feel like a dump," Britta replied, lying in Jimmy's bed inside the trailer she now shared with him.

"Once you give birth, it will be alright," the nurse replied.

"Will it hurt?" Britta asked.

"Well, do you want the _honest_ truth?" Sigrid offered. After Britta nodded, she began; "according to what I have heard, it is like being ripped to shreds. Almost like your insides are stretched beyond their means, as if a big bowling ball is passing through you. Yet once the bowling ball comes out, you're bleeding heavily. It's a lot like your monthly cycle just ten times worse."

"Ew! Really? Why didn't anyone tell me that?" the pregnant woman exclaimed.

"You wanted the truth, so I told you. Need I say more?" Sigrid asked.

Soon, the door of the trailer opened to Jimmy coming in with the mail he had picked up from the post office, seeing a letter from the landowner he was buying the farm from. In the meantime, he had taken a temporary job fixing motorbikes at the local repair shop. At first, the owner did not feel comfortable hiring him with his deformity, but when he prove to them that he was capable of fixing a motorcycle like he had done on his own so many times, he was hired and paid per job by the customer themselves, which was usually $40 but he gave fifteen percent of his earnings to the shop's owner.

"Britta? You ok in there?" he called out. "I have the mail. I got a letter from that guy in South Carolina."

"_Ja_? Open it?" Britta said, looking over at Sigrid, who gently patted her pregnant belly and put her ear to it. She felt it kick for the first time, and she got all excited and waved her hands in the air as she spoke their mother tongue.

"It kicked! It kicked! Did you feel that?" the nurse asked frantically. Jimmy entered the bedroom part of their trailer and sat down on his side of the bed, putting the envelopes down and looking over at the two as they spoke to each other.

"It did? Really?" She looked down to see the outline of a foot embossed on her kin through the fabric of her dress; she gasped excitedly, looking over at her husband.

"Jimmy! It kicked! The first time!" Britta exclaimed.

In a hurry, he got into a comfortable place on the bed, removing his shoes and going to caress his wife's pregnant, swollen belly, feeling his child's foot kicking inside as he gasped and chuckled.

"Aw, don't worry, little guy! You'll be out soon!" Jimmy joked, making the two Swedes laugh at his joke.

"He is hilarious," Sigrid said, continuing in their mother tongue. "But seriously, I think this is a boy you're having.

"What?"

"Yeah, it seems like a boy. He's going to grow into a big and tall man one day. Very strong, too," the nurse stated. Jimmy, hearing their conversation, was utterly confused and looked at them to catch their attention.

"Oh," Britta said, finally noticing. "Jimmy, she thinks it to be a boy."

"A boy? Really?"

"_Ja_," Sigrid said, cutting into their small talk.

"How would you know?"

"I am just making a guess," Sigrid said to Jimmy.

"Whatever it is, it is still my child and I will love it the same," he said kindly. Ironically, he secretly hoped for a son.

Britta and Sigrid agreed to send letters back and forth and call each other once a week on the phone just before they made their leave for South Carolina. Their trailers were abandoned but any furniture that was in them was hauled to the new location as the former carnies went by train to the small farming town of Barnwell, South Carolina. The scenery was much more beautiful and lush, more so than Jupiter, and it looked like many kind, accepting people lived there. The road on which their new home was settled had many ranches and small farms behind larger cotton plantations that were at least two centuries old and almost at the peak of the year's harvest. The weather was warm; once they arrived by bus, all the carnies, with Jimmy and his pregnant wife in front of them, looked at the large barn, the quaint, spacious farmhouse, and the five acres their new home was on. The owner came out upon seeing them and looked at Jimmy, whose hands were gloved the entire trip.

"You must be Jimmy. Great to see ya, sir," he said, shaking his hand. He looked at Britta, whose pregnant glow and vivid green eyes caught his attention. "This is your wife?"

"Yup," Jimmy said.

"Wonderful to meet ya, ma'am," he said, taking her hand and kissing it respectfully. Jimmy was weirded out, but remembered he was only trying to show respect. Once he signed the property forms and gave the former owner of the lot the money for all five acres, he looked around at the acres of land in front of him and smiled; "We're gonna love it here."

* * *

The main things that could be grown all year round in the warm farming town were citrus fruits and peaches on the trees, sugarcane, and cotton. Wheat was very abundant on their new farm, and a large chunk was ready to harvest when they were all settled in. Jimmy had read a few books about how to grow crops, even though he remembered growing up in the country as a little boy with his mother near farms after his father abandoned them. Eve, Jyoti, Pepper, and Dot and Bette helped by picking fruit off the trees, as well as nuts that had grown in a specific area on their farm. Paul and Salty fed the chickens and made sure the horses were fed, as there were two. Some of the dwarves helped keep the house clean, and Britta did what she could until her due date was near enough that she couldn't work. Jimmy also took the liberty of hiring construction workers to build a secondary barn for Eve, Jyoti, Dot and Bette, Pepper, and Salty to sleep in that looked much like a house in itself with designated rooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. The most favored part that the carnies liked about their new home was that they weren't being judged or showcased, and that their neighbors were friendly and understanding—plus, they had known Jimmy for a long time and trusted in him for their protection.

* * *

By the fall, the first harvest was a success and earned them all a lot of money, and Jimmy made sure to divide the total amount made at the farmer's market evenly amongst the former carnies; on September 17, Britta had officially gone into labor and felt sharp pains in her stomach as she felt fluid soaking her nightgown as it flowed out of her birth canal like a river. Her breasts felt like heavy, swollen rocks on her chest as they became more engorged with milk since they moved there. Jimmy, awoken by her heavy moans of anxiety and agony in the middle of the very early morning, looked over at her and flicked the light on as she curled into a ball, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It is time," she said under heavy breathing. "Ow!"

In a rush, he jumped out of the bed and went across the hall to get his mother, waking her up as she shuddered, looking up at the shadow of her son. He looked down at her worriedly, and she sat up.

"It's time?"

"Yeah," Jimmy replied. "You want me to stay out?"

"You don't have to leave. She may just want ya in there," she replied, getting up from her slumber and shuffling down the hall to the master bedroom was. She made her way over to Britta, who was crying in agony as the contractions became more intense.

"Ah!"

"Calm down, darlin'," Ethel instructed, looking at Jimmy. "Get us some water, will ya?"

As he left, she had Britta lay on her back and open her legs, taking off any undergarment she had been wearing as she opened her legs to try and see if the baby was crowning—there was not a doctor nearby, and having had a child long ago, she knew what to expect and took it upon herself to help the young woman give birth successfully and safely.

"Ok, breathe, Britta," Ethel said, hands on the girl's knees as she tried to take deep breaths. Blood kept coming out of her entrance, but it seemed like the baby was sliding out quicker than she could push until it stopped for a moment.

"Push," the bearded lady said, and she did so, grunting as she cried and muttered in her language.

"God help me!" she exclaimed.

"I can see its head, you're doing great!" Ethel said with praise, putting her hands at the bottom of her entrance to catch the baby when it was to come out headfirst. Meanwhile, Jimmy entered the room but cringed at the sight of his wife giving birth; he wrung out a cloth in a pail of water, putting it on her forehead to relieve her dizziness and nausea. He sat next to her and held her hand, letting her squeeze it as he tried to keep her calm.

"I'm here, it's alright. You're doing good, just keep pushing," Jimmy encouraged. She looked over at him before grunting again, screaming in pain and crying. She could see that the head was halfway out and the shoulders were stuck at the end of her entrance.

"It's almost out, just one more push!" Ethel said.

"You can do it," Jimmy said, kissing the top of her hand gently as she grunted heavily, making a final push until the sound of a squealing, crying baby filled the room.

With a few sighs of relief, Britta gulped air and continued to cry but only this time, it was tears of joy. Ethel took the pair of scissors her son had brought in and took them to the umbilical cord as soon as the placenta made its way out of Britta into the pail of water that was no longer being used. She proceeded to wash the baby and being curious about its gender, looked between its legs and saw definitely what it was. She wrapped it in a small makeshift blanket and took her back to the master bedroom, where Jimmy and Britta awaited their new child.

"It's a girl," the bearded lady said with a cheerful smile, handing the newly silent baby to her daughter in-law.

Britta stared down into the eyes of her baby daughter; she resembled her father a lot, even though her eyes hadn't totally changed color yet. She had light brown wisps on the top of her temporarily-conical head and her eyes stared steadily up at her mother, who cooed to her in Swedish. Jimmy was curious about what she was saying, but listened closely.

"Welcome to the world, my darling. I love you," she said, kissing her newborn's forehead.

"Can I hold her?" Jimmy asked. Ethel looked at him and shook her head.

"Sh," she said. "She needs to be fed first." The bearded lady made her way over to Britta and showed her how to breastfeed the newborn baby, lifting down a side of her nightgown to expose one of her full, swollen breasts that the baby's mouth quickly found and latched onto, sucking from them the milk that was produced to nourish her. He watched as his wife suckled their new baby, trying to hold one of her tiny hands and feeling how soft her skin was. He smiled charmingly,, looking up at Britta abruptly.

"What should we name her?" he asked.

"I like the name Annika," she said.

"That sounds nice," he said with a smile, looking down as his newborn daughter stopped suckling her mother's breast and looked up at him. "Ooh, she's looking at me!" He waved and cooed. "Helloo!"

Baby Annika started to giggle at her father, looking up at him with her small, beady eyes as she reached for him. He smiled back and leaned in to kiss her cheek before kissing his wife on the lips; he noticed a different look in her eyes, one that was more positive and as if she had been touched by an angel. He smiled at her as she kissed their newborn again on the cheek—the baby cooed softly.

* * *

Annika was not their first child, however; by the time she was four years old, Britta had been pregnant three times with all of them being miscarried. Ironically, though Jimmy and the rest of the former carnies were extremely upset at the news each time, Britta seemed cold and indifferent to it; yet somehow, deep down inside she was very torn. The third miscarriage was thought to have been caused by the emotional breakdown brought on by the death of Ethel in November 1958—Britta had been too depressed to even function when she passed, all due to a liver problem that had gotten worse because she had been battling it after years of drinking, and Jimmy was distraught. He never picked up a drink again, even if it was social, and it broke his heart to see poor little Annika grow close to her grandmother only for her to pass away so soon.

A local funeral home buried her in a small cemetery, and after the funeral, Jimmy had been sitting on the sofa alone, looking down at his polished leather shoes as he heard small footsteps walking into the room. Looking up with a despondent expression, he saw that it was little Annika, only four years old, staring at him with tears filling her deep brown eyes and her wavy strawberry-blonde hair in their messy braids. She was the average height for a girl her age, but she was very skinny; he extended his arms out to welcome her into the room, and she promptly ran for her father and cried in his lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey," he said, frowning. "I'm upset, too."

"Why did Grammy go?" she asked, her voice small and with incomplete sentences.

"We all do, Annika. It is a part of life. I didn't want her to leave, either," Jimmy replied, feeling his daughter's thick, kinky reddish-blonde hair.

"Mamma said that God rings a bell and calls people up to Heaven to be with him," the little girl cried. "Is she right?" He sighed—religion hadn't totally been pushed on him growing up, but he nevertheless nodded in order to encourage her belief in a higher power.

"Yeah, you can say that. Grammy was sick for a while, sweetie. He just wants to end their suffering," Jimmy said. "Here, come up on the couch." Doing so, she said something very chilling, her brown eyes staring into space. Annika was not the most attractive child, but both of her parents loved her just the same. He stared down at her, and she looked up at him.

"Will God ring the little bell for _me_?" she asked with worry. Jimmy, beginning to cry again, was concerned for his little daughter and shook his head frantically as he held her close.

"No, no, no…not for a_ very_ long time," he said sadly. "I guess you can say he only calls people who are very old or very sick. You have nothing to worry about, sweetie." He kissed the top of her head and held her close to him, her head against his lower chest. She stared down at his deformed hands, sighing sadly as she thought of the one she lost.

* * *

A miracle struck the farm in August 1959, when Britta gave birth to their second child, a baby boy named Christopher. Unlike Annika, he had been born in the hospital a few cities over and Britta was brought in advance because it was somewhat far from Barnwell, and Annika was left under the care of Dot and Bette while Jimmy and Eve went to accompany her and offer support. The two were at her sides as she kept pushing and pushing until a pudgy little son came out of her. The moment Britta got to hold her newborn son, she looked down at saw that his eyes were smoldering although their true color hadn't set in yet, and his hair was brown like his father's, proven by curly wisps on the top of his smooth head. He seemed to coo a lot, and when Eve held him, baby Christopher threw up on her. Jimmy was especially excited to finally have a son. The others, when they came back to their Barnwell farm, were very happy to finally meet the new baby. Pepper and Salty went up to his nursery and clapped, smiling down at the baby and making him laugh and giggle with delight.

* * *

After another miscarriage in early 1960, Britta felt convinced that she was not so lucky with conceiving children even though she already had a daughter and a son. Yes, she got pregnant very easily and quite often due to Jimmy's nature of being a hornball, but she ended up losing the baby minus Annika and Christopher. She was a smoker, but not a drinker, and she felt confident that smoking was ruining her chances of having children—she attempted to quit smoking and tried to eat healthier and more wholesome foods, serving whatever she tried to cook to everyone else as well. She gained some extra pounds this way, but rather than being her skinny, petite self, she looked much healthier. Jimmy, who got his daily workout by doing farm labor on his land, looked bulkier and more intimidating. Christopher, already somewhat overweight, also gained a few more pounds; Annika, however, remained somewhat scrawny—that one seemed to get less and less feminine-looking as she got older. She got to the point where she no longer wanted to wear dresses; Britta and Jimmy ignored these pleas, and they went about their business.

* * *

By 1962, Jimmy and Britta had made love a lot, and she had the mindset that she wouldn't get pregnant just because she feared losing another child—however, she was wrong, because in December of that same year, another child, a son named Tobias, was born in the same hospital as his brother Christopher. Jimmy was very happy to know that he was father to another boy, and when he was brought back to the farm, Bette and Dot took him upstairs to the room her shared with his three year old brother. He particularly liked the name they had chosen for him, and he even dubbed him 'Toby'. He was much better-looking than his brother with wisps of blond hair and bright blue eyes that had hints of gray in them. He definitely inherited Nordic genetics from his mother, but his facial structure was much like his father's, a dimply smile appearing within months of his birth.

Britta never suffered another miscarriage again—she was especially delighted when their fourth child, another son who was named Julian, entered the world in July 1964. He had not been born in the hospital, but in the comfort of their own home and strangely enough, Jimmy was the only one present and even delivered the baby as it came out. He was repulsed by the sight of blood and amniotic fluid but it was all worth it when the area was all cleaned up and the baby was wrapped in a blanket. Britta held him and kissed his smooth forehead, looking down to see that light wisps of chestnut brown hair covered his head, his eyes looked intense and deep, and his nose looked like the perfect button in between his chubby little cheeks. Annika had been by her mother's side while witnessing the birth, now a tomboy of ten years old, and was holding her hand as Britta was in labor.

Life with four children, a daughter and three sons, was golden for the Darling family and their former fellow troupe members who remained on the farm. Paul the Tattooed Seal and Amazon Eve had gotten married the same year baby Julian was born, and they moved away to a small house in the Georgia suburbs while promising to keep in touch. They were definitely an odd couple, but it was no surprise because the two had known each other and performed in the same freak show for a long time. It had been a decade since abandoning Jupiter, and they had prospered greatly on their Barnwell farm living off the land and selling whatever it could produce while only saving a small fraction of the crops for their own consumption.

Annika was very good friends with the neighboring family's sons, with whom she played rough sports and talked about raunchy subjects most girls wouldn't dare to venture into. Jimmy was fine to know that his daughter was happy doing what she liked to do, but Britta felt uneasy about her daughter wearing pants and plain colors with no desire to wear dresses and fashionable things. She definitely hated that Annika would swap clothes with her guy friends while hanging out with them so she could blend in more with them. Having been teased for her boyish, "ugly" appearance in elementary school, being with her guy friends made her feel welcome and like she belonged. She felt herself around them, and Jimmy, as her father, didn't mind one bit.

* * *

The family and the former carnies were taken by surprise in 1966, three days before Halloween, when Britta, only eight months pregnant, went into premature labor. Dot and Bette, their conjoined selves hearing the commotion in the big dining room as she set up for lunch, heard her screaming as liquid dripped from between her legs. Bette gasped, and Dot looked at her strangely.

"What's the matter with you?" Dot asked.

"It's too soon!" Britta muttered in her tongue.

"What?" Bette asked with worry.

"It's coming…I feel…" She then fainted, her body hitting the ground. The conjoined body shared by the twins ran to her and tried to pull her up—Jyoti, still her small, petite self, looked at them and gasped in fright.

"Get Jimmy now," Dot stated. "She needs treatment."

She definitely got treatment—a clinic had been built in the center of Barnwell belonging to a general practitioner, Dr. Wadkin, and his specialized nurses, which made it easier for the children to get their yearly checkups and have other medical needs fulfilled. Jimmy rushed her in, Dot and Bette with them, and Britta panicked uncontrollably as she felt amniotic fluid flowing out of her like a river. Her tummy was rather small, which made her worry about the baby inside other than the fact that she flat-out fainted in their dining room. Dr. Wadkin got Britta into a suitable position for the baby to come out, and she cried as she pushed.

"This_is_ too soon, oh my god," the doctor muttered. "You need to push, alright. Be gentle."

Doing as told, Britta cried and sobbed as she pushed with each contraction, trying to get the baby out of her. Why had this happened to her? She was happy not to have had a miscarriage, at least, but the baby was premature and when it came out, its face was blue.

"Oh…" Dr. Wadkin said, looking down at the newborn who didn't cry, but yet still breathed and had a heartbeat. He gave the baby's chest a little slap, which worried Britta and Jimmy as she looked down at them.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?!" he asked frantically, holding his wife's right hand.

"She still has a heartbeat and is breathing but…she looks blue," the doctor replied. "They need to be sent to an actual hospital. I cannot help you with this."

Angry at the doctor for not trying, Jimmy worried nonstop about his newborn child and his wife—in short, Britta almost died from having this child, a baby daughter, but the baby cried for the first time a few days after it was taken out of the incubator. She was cleaned up and had a diaper change, given to her father who stared down at her. His new daughter was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen in his entire life; Annika paled in comparison to this extraordinary, miracle child, whose perfectly round head was covered in platinum blonde wisps with eyes that shone like stars. She was a splitting image of her mother, with pure Scandinavian traits displayed in her angelic face. He cradled her and held her close, kissing her forehead as she cooed slightly.

Britta survived the ordeal but spent two weeks in the hospital with the baby—when they came home, she still didn't have a name decided for the child, who was still so small. The Swede's heart broke with joy upon seeing her new baby daughter because it was like looking into a mirror but only into something much greater than she herself could ever possibly be. Jimmy and Britta debated on a name for her one night while in Annika's old nursery, but he thought that because the baby resembled Britta so much, she should be given a Scandinavian name.

"Elina," Britta decided, picking her baby up out of the crib and looking into her large, starry eyes. Her next words were Swedish; "We will call you Elina."

* * *

In 1969, Annika was fifteen and was by far, the least attractive and most troubled of their five children because of the fact she was bullied even as she started high school for her "ugliness" or "manly" appearance and build. Christopher was ten, and had lost most of his baby fat playing for his school's baseball team, with which he had a lot of fun doing so. Tobias was seven and a strong-willed child who threw tantrums quite often, much to the dismay of the others and his parents. Young Julian, their youngest son, was only five and a spirited, playful child who was particularly close with Tobias. As for three year old Elina, the most beautiful of their children with her platinum blonde hair, piercing green eyes and angelic face, a startling discovery was made one fateful night when Jimmy went to find her in order to put her to bed.

He found her in the living room, sitting on the floor as her eyes were fixated on a small trophy won for having the ripest peaches as it lifted itself off the fireplace mantle. He watched in awe and shock as the baby girl turned her head to the side, clapping and giggling with excitement as she spun the object on its axis like she would on a globe model. When she used her mind to put the object back in its place, Jimmy gasped and watched as the baby girl's newfound abilities created a booming fire in the hearth, and she cooed with excitement.

"_Elden! Elden_!" she cooed, using words her mother had taught her—Swedish and English were both used by the children in the household. She raised her arms out as if to hug someone, and the fire flared dangerously, the flames nearly licking the curtains near the windows. "_Bränna!_"

"Britta! Come in here!" Jimmy called out, looking at the sight in horror.

Her footsteps came down the stairs as she rushed to join her husband. She was worried as her hair, in a crown braid like usual, became fully undone for sleep. She peered into the living room doorway and gasped, smiling slightly at the scene of her daughter manipulating the fire she had created in the fireplace. Jimmy did not stop her as she walked gently over the white carpet and sat next to the toddler, who stared up at her mother's hidden delight in her face. She began speaking Swedish, and he was utterly confused albeit used to it by now.

"Mamma, did you see it?" she cooed, holding her hands up toward her.

"I did see it, my dear," Britta said happily, holding the baby girl in her lap as she sat Indian style on the white carpet, looking into the fire. "Watch! I can do it, too!"

Jimmy gasped, watching at the fire started changing colors like a sacred flame in a mystical world—its normal color to bright red, bright red to yellow, yellow to lime green, lime green to teal, teal to blue, blue to indigo, indigo to violet, violet to fuschia, fushia to pink, and pink back to red….the cycle continued, and the baby laughed and cooed in amazement.


	25. AHS Alt Universe Series Sequels

Did you like _Uplift_? If so, please check out the four other sequels that make this one story not only the most popular on my FF page, but a series that has met its success on here AND Wattpad!

This is the first...so...

**_Second_** is _Red Storm_, the direct sequel of the first.

_**Third**_ is _Abominations_, set in the AHS: Coven storyline with canon twists.

**_Fourth_** is _Incubus_, a supernatural-horror thriller also set in the AHS: Coven universe.

**_Fifth_** and final is _Everytime_, in which a face from the past returns for good in the AHS: Murder House storyline.

Also, on Wattpad, there is an exclusive story highlighting two OCs in particular, _Chasing a Dream_. Be sure to check it out if you've read and liked this series because this story will NOT be posted here on Fanfiction: myworks/38680067-chasing-a-dream 

Please leave **Reviews** when you read, and be sure to **Favorite** and **Follow**! Thank you all SO much for your support! :D

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own _American Horror Story_. All canon names, plots, and settings belong to the respective owner (Ryan Murphy).

ALL OCs are my own. Stories are rated according to content.


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